Beneath the Sheets of Paper
by Archaeologist
Summary: Merlin's nightmares are getting worse and when a chance encounter has Arthur rescuing him, it sets off a chain of events that makes Merlin questioning everything he thought was real. Modern AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Merlin's nightmares are getting worse and when a chance encounter has Arthur rescuing him, it sets off a chain of events that makes Merlin questioning everything he thought was real.  
**Beta:** many thanks to winterstorrm for Brit-picking and to kathyh for being such a kind and thorough beta. All errors are mine.  
**Notes:** based on a brilliant picture by sandrainthesun on livejournal. This originally had more slash in it but I toned it down for ff.n  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No credits have changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

_Throat raw with screaming, he couldn't stand up, was already sinking onto the damp earth, his father's failing body held close. Behind him, distantly as if unreal, as if a world away and none of his concern, a scatter of noise and impossibilities, he could hear swords clanking, sharp sounds, and Arthur grunting with effort. Merlin knew the prince was trying hard to drive them back, cursing at Cenred's men as he went. _

_But it didn't matter now. _

_His fingers wet with blood, the hot warmth already cooling in his hand, and the smell of iron and crushed earth and sweat was clogging his mouth but he had to breathe, had to keep his father alive somehow. _

_Just one more moment._

_In a wild effort, Merlin shook his head, told his father no and no and Balinor kept whispering things he needed to understand but he didn't want to hear it - wasting the precious moments, the desperately needed seconds to dredge up the spells, speak the words and save him. But he couldn't find them, his mind searching, searching and he wanted so badly but the spells skittered away, just out of reach. _

_And then it was too late. A long sigh and his father slumped into death and he couldn't believe it, kept trying to stanch the blood, bring him back with shakes and entreaties and disbelief. _

_He was drowning in tears and he couldn't let Arthur see but his father was dead and it was his fault, always his fault. And he couldn't breathe, couldn't…._

Merlin shot up in his bed, his chest still vibrating with grief, his face wet with tears; his throat hurt as if he'd been shouting. Perhaps he had. The dream had been so vivid, just like all the other dreams that he tried to forget, all the others that had haunted him most of his life.

Blinking away the remnants of heartache, he lay back down again, still trying to catch his breath, already knowing what he needed to do and yet trying to ignore it.

In the dark recesses of his room, the clock was flashing 3:47 in green and black. As he stared at it, the colours bled into 3:48. It was quiet outside his window, although in the distance, he could hear the ever-present buzz of east London traffic. It might have been relaxing once, long ago, even exciting, but now it only reminded him of everything he'd lost.

For a while, he watched the shadowed movement of curtains, slowly drifting back and forth in the air, hoping to find a kind of peace and for once an untroubled sleep. But finally he gave up as he always did and started up his computer.

It was already after five before he blinked again. There was growing birdsong and the rumble of lorries outside and the sound of footsteps crossing the street, distant laughter as the drunks finally stumbled home. Ignoring everything else, he looked down at the screen, knowing before he did what would be there.

Every moment, every pain-filled breath was vividly described, as if what he'd felt haemorrhaged onto the computer screen. He had to admit that it was beautiful in the flow of language, the colour and sound and smell of it all seemed to leap off the page and he shivered, hating every word he'd written.

Yet, it was the only way he knew how to cope with the dreams. No matter the drugs they'd forced on him or the talks with endless sympathetic psychologists or the therapies, nothing else had worked. Writing it down was the only way that had given him even the semblance of peace.

The bloody irony was that it also helped pay the bills.

But he wasn't even going to think about it, not now. He needed sleep, a few hours rest, hopefully without the nightmares returning. He was exhausted enough without Gaius's nagging him about it or trying to shove disgusting medicines down his throat in a futile attempt to help him.

If luck was with him, he'd wake refreshed and smiling. If luck was with him, the nightmares would disappear and he'd finally be normal.

Then again, he didn't believe in luck.

* * *

The sharp clatter of the shop's security gate finally woke him.

Bleary-eyed, he looked around, saw the sun streaming through the curtains, heard the sounds of traffic, and excited shoppers' voices, an amused hello and muted conversation rising up from the street. A typical Saturday, he'd heard it all a hundred times before.

Of course, he was late again. Gaius was already opening up downstairs and Merlin wasn't there to help him. Shoving on faded, really-should-be-washed jeans and a relatively clean shirt, scrubbing his face with icy water and hurry, he skidded past the now-cold eggs and congealing bacon Gaius had left him in the kitchen, then rushed down the stairs, two at a time, and into the back of the shop.

Gaius gave him a look.

It wasn't the first time he'd been late nor would it likely be the last but he tried to show his contrition with a small grin and a shrug.

Gaius just gave him another look and added a put-upon sigh for effect.

"Sorry, I know. I know I should have been here sooner but… well, I had another bad night and…." He trailed off, suddenly wary of the concerned gaze. What he didn't need was more of those nasty mixtures Gaius loved to make. Putting on a bland, I'm-innocent face, he said quickly, "I'm fine, now. I am. Really, don't worry about me."

Obviously he fooled no one, least of all Gaius. But they both knew that there was little to be done. So the old man merely nodded and shooed him off, telling him to go eat and come back with his hair combed and presentable as he had a business to run and appearances did make a difference.

A wider grin and a nod and he settled in for the day. There were deliveries to make, and when he was finally back in the shop, smiles to give when customers came in for their potions and crystals and hopes that only the magic of belief could bring.

How a learned man like Gaius ended up in a small store in the dodgy end of East London was beyond him. Once a physician and now a purveyor of dubious medicines and New Age rubbish, barely making ends meet, the old man seemed happy and his customers were certainly satisfied. But Merlin knew that magic was a myth, something that only happened in fairy stories. How someone who'd gone to university could believe otherwise just boggled the mind.

Not that he'd say anything when Gaius would go on and on about gifts and destinies and magic. His great-uncle had been more than kind in taking him in after his mum died and even now, he often waived Merlin's rent when jobs became scarce or when he was having trouble with the dreams.

At least the silver lining in all that was that his writing was beginning to pay off a bit. A short story here, a longer piece there and it almost made the nightmares worth it. Almost.

But it still wasn't enough to live on. So Merlin helped out at the shop and later once it was closed, worked as a glass collector at the Dalston Superstore.

The pay there was okay and sometimes the exhausting work only intensified his nightmares but he got free meals, a drink or two on the sly and it was so energizing that he didn't care. The pulsing music, fashionable crowds and fluoro flashes, the excitement sometimes made him feel alive, in a way that reality could not. That it was a gay bar had nothing to do with his looking forward to the evenings; the crowds were a great mix of straight and gay and everything in between but he wasn't looking for love or lust or even anonymous sex, not while his nightmares made his life so unbalanced.

He couldn't seem to stop hoping, though. It was stupid, really absurd for him to even think about finding someone at the club and he'd had enough arguments with himself over it. His job might consist mostly of picking up after the customers and washing the endless dishes but his heart refused to pay attention to reality. Even now, with the latest nightmare still haunting him, he was yearning for more than endless nights alone.

The club's grumpy doorman was already at the entrance, turning away those who didn't meet his exacting standards, and the lines were long enough, posh gits and their hangers on, over-the-top twinks and underage idiots interspersed with the usual crowd. The typical Saturday night.

He wasn't late but the manager gave him a glare anyway and then a shake of his head. Merlin smiled back, nodded then grabbed the first of the many trays and started piling up dirty dishes and mostly empty glasses, swiping the table tops as he did, just trying to stay ahead of the mess.

It worked mostly but as it got later and later, the crowds became almost unmanageable. He wasn't exactly light on his feet and there were times when he narrowly missed dropping the whole tub of dishes on the floor as he pushed and prodded his way through the mass of bodies.

Hot, sweat sticking to his now food-stained shirt, his arms shaking with effort, he'd hoped to get through the night without any collisions. But he didn't believe in luck and for once it would seem, luck didn't believe in him either.

He was watching the dancers jumping about, twisting around, joyous and energetic, the flashing colours and the electro sound pounding through him. Off to one side, near the bar, something caught his attention. A blond head, a face that looked disturbingly familiar, a smile that he knew far too well.

It couldn't be.

It had to be a mistake, a delusion brought on by sweaty bodies and noise and darkness; for a breathless instant, it looked almost as if it was his - he wouldn't say it was Arthur because that was ridiculous. After all, his dreams weren't real, no matter how they made him feel. Not real, never that.

Still he couldn't move, just stood there, staring at him. A woman with purple-streaked black hair, face hidden from view, leaned in impossibly close and Arthu… the man smirked at her, shaking his head, just as a bearded bloke behind him, rugged good looks and achingly familiar, whispered into his ear. He pushed them both away, laughing at some joke lost in the music. Obviously friends having a good time.

It was insane. Merlin was insane and he knew Arthur and yet he'd never met him, never would meet him nor any of his posh mates. It was impossible. Obviously, the memories were confusing him, muddling his mind, and seeing Arthur like that, so close and yet so completely out of his reach, just made things worse.

He'd never felt so alone.

Throat catching, he turned away, hoping to finish his shift and get out of the club before he did something incredibly foolish.

But luck was a bitch. Forgetting the tub of dishes heavy in his hand, as he twisted around, he knocked into one of the club patrons, and it slipped from his grasp, spilling everything, the remnants of food and drink all over the man's scruffy boots.

Already babbling apologies, he knelt down, picking up the broken glass, encrusted plates, dumping them back into the tub as quickly as he could with one hand and trying to wipe at the boots with his other.

"Shit, those were expensive boots, you fucking arsehole."

Bloody hell. He knew that voice.

It was Valiant.

He hunkered down, didn't respond, just kept picking up the pieces, hoping that the man would get bored and move on to torment some other poor sod. But this was just not his night.

"Of course, it's the half-wit. Let you out of the loony bin, did they?"

When he didn't answer, Valiant kicked out, send Merlin sprawling into the mass of writhing bodies. The tub of dishes skidded past him and several patrons had to sidestep in order to avoid it and him, grumbling loudly as they did.

Merlin scrambled after the mess and as other customers closed in behind him, Valiant was lost in the crowd. Still hunched down, he picked up the last of the glasses and hurried away, hoping to avoid another argument with the bloody git. He didn't want his boss to have an excuse to fire him. He needed the money.

After that, he managed to stay in the kitchen, washing up. He wasn't hiding, not exactly, just making sure that he'd not cause trouble for the club. He wasn't so much of an idiot that he'd confront Valiant. The man had mates just as savage as he was and Merlin's bruises from his last encounter with them had only now begun to fade.

It was nearly closing time when his boss finally had had enough and sent him home. The run-in with Valiant had shaken him and he kept dropping things, much to everyone's annoyance. He knew it was a miracle he still had his job so he wasn't about to argue for a full shift, merely nodded and turned away.

Putting on his jacket, he slipped out the back, pulling a large bag of rubbish with him and tossing it into the bin in the alleyway. It was quieter there, only the muted sound of music pulsing through the walls, and his own footsteps, nothing out of the ordinary but the weekend smell of rotting food and sick and stale beer, the glint of broken glass littering the ground.

There was no sign of Valiant.

Merlin had escaped this time.

Letting out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, he headed home.

At the club entrance, the lines of people clamouring to get in had vanished along with the grumpy doorman. A few smokers were still hanging there, talking quietly among themselves, but they paid Merlin scant attention and he didn't recognize any of them anyway. A couple came out, laughing, half-drunk on booze and music, stumbling down the street and for a second, he could still hear the techno beat blasting away inside. But the door swung shut and as the two walked away, it grew quiet again.

It was very late. The stores were all shuttered. Somewhere in the distance a bottle smashed, making him cringe, turning to look behind him to see if there was danger but it wasn't close and he didn't see anyone else. Even the smokers had gone.

Usually he didn't mind the semi-quiet; it wasn't like Ealdor but he'd gotten used to the ever-present buzz of distant traffic and it was kind of peaceful in a way. But now he was jumping at every shadow, feeling ready to bolt for home and hide under the covers.

It was ridiculous to think that Valiant was waiting for him. More likely, he'd found a bird to shag or got drunk and passed out somewhere; it had been hours, after all, and Valiant wasn't known for his patience.

Yet as he turned back toward the flat, in the split-second between that thought and agony, the fist smashing into his cheek seemed almost inevitable.

Merlin staggered back, pain exploding across his face, and Valiant was swinging at him again. Ducking, the fist missed him by a hairs-breadth but there was Dagr and Ebor, the bastard's shadows, appearing out of the doorway next to Gaius's shop, grabbing at Merlin's arms, one of them pulling hard, twisting him around and as he struggled, Valiant got in another punch, this time into his gut.

Ebor, fuck him, was laughing and then he kicked at Merlin's leg, trying to get his own sick pleasure by trying to force Merlin down and as he stumbled, falling hard on one knee, there was more pain, a universe of it when Dagr, still holding his arm, pulled up hard. Wire-sharp agony, shooting straight through him and up into his brain.

He must have screamed, well as much as he could without breathing and his vision was already growing black around the edges. Dagr was saying something, echoes of profanity and contempt, as he yanked again, laughing at Merlin's frantic attempts to escape the pain.

"Hold him, Dagr," Valiant said. "I'm not done with him yet."

But the bully was as stupid as he was ugly, and mouth open, when Valiant moved closer, Dagr loosened his grip, his other hand shoving at Valiant, snarling as he said, "Fuck you. I'm still having my fun."

Ebor wasn't paying attention to the other two, focused instead on his own brand of entertainment, went to kick Merlin again. Frantic, he jerked out of Dagr's grasp somehow. There was another blaze of agony; his arm was now all but useless at his side, but at least the kick missed his gut, instead scored along his ribcage, more pain but nothing compared to his shoulder and aching head.

"You little shit," Valiant shouted, pushing Dagr aside. Then grabbing Merlin, dragging him up, he punched him again, hard across the mouth.

Blood sprayed out and his eyes streaming with agony and tears, he couldn't see anything, couldn't do anything, collapsing back to the pavement, waited for more pain, more cruelty from these bastards.

In the distance he could hear them laughing, talking about what else they'd do, arguing as to which of them would split his head open, and find out if there was anything inside.

The darkness was calling him, black-edged agony already tunnelling in but terrified as he was, as he looked up, it wasn't Kingsland High Street he saw. There were trees and stonework and horses, Valiant clothed in chainmail, his shield writhing with snakes, Ebor and Dagr in hard leathers, looking for all like thugs in some crappy costume drama.

Oh, god, he was having another vision and he was going to die from it this time.

He couldn't stand it, wanted to make it stop. Words echoing in his head, nonsense words, words he knew and didn't know and as Valiant raised his gloved hand, Merlin's world turned bright. Somehow, somehow the bastards were flying backwards towards the trees, shield spinning off into the distance, chainmail and leathers morphing back into dirty jeans and torn hoodies.

When he blinked again, the three of them were looking a little dazed, as if they'd hit the wall behind them hard and only now realizing it. Merlin flinched back. He knew that they'd be on him again in a second and he had nothing left, no energy, no words, just nightmares and one final agony.

He didn't expect rescue. Too many people were afraid of Valiant and his scum friends; he was on his own.

But from behind him, a remembered voice, shouting at them to stop or he'd make them stop.

It couldn't be.

Arthur was there. Not the Arthur of his dreams but the man from the club, and behind him, getting out of the taxi, the other bearded man, and the woman he'd been dancing with. Leon and Morgana.

As he tried to blink away some of the confusion of how he knew their names and why they were there, Ebor and Dagr were already dusting themselves off, nonchalant and exuding the kind of stupidity for which they were known, that they thought they could take on the newcomers with ease. Valiant, on the other hand, was sizing them up, weighing the odds.

The woman had her mobile out and was already giving someone their location and a second later, another taxi drove up and more people got out. Gwaine and Percival and Elyan and Merlin had no idea who they were and why he knew them and didn't know them and it would have been fascinating to figure it out if he wasn't in such pain.

Valiant was smarter than he looked. He must have realized that he was outnumbered and he glared down at Merlin, snarling, "This isn't over, Emrys."

Then he shoved at his idiot friends, and cowards all, they ran into the darkness.

For a moment, Merlin tried to breathe, relieved that it was over, then lay back down on the dirty pavement, wanting to sink into the cement, and forget everything. He hurt so badly, his shoulder felt like nerves shredding every time he moved, and he could taste blood in his mouth. It was too much, just too much to fight any more. The pain, the confusion, the endless nightmares. He just wanted peace.

"Stay with me." The man, Arthur or whoever he really was, wouldn't let him alone. "Stay with me."

Purple-streaked hair brushed against his cheek as she leaned down and Morgana said, "He looks bad. He needs to go to hospital. I'll call for…."

"No! Don't! No hospitals, no!" Merlin was frantic. He'd had enough of hospitals. They'd put him in the mental ward again, make him take drugs to suppress the dreams. No matter what they called it now, half-way homes or care units or… he'd not do it again. He'd rather die. "Please, Arthur, don't."

A gentle touch, sweet perfume lingering and she said, "You could have broken bones or be bleeding inside. You need to see a doctor." She stood up, looked toward the blond. "Arthur, he needs medical attention."

That the man was named Arthur was irony enough but even close up, he looked like the man of his dreams, even smelled like him. The idea made Merlin's head throb or was it the pain of a cut mouth and battered body; he wasn't sure any more.

Arthur knelt down, looked him over. "She's right. You need a doctor, if nothing else than to stop the bleeding and fix your shoulder."

Merlin wanted to shake his head but even that hurt. Instead he said, "My great-uncle's a doctor. He can… he's in the flat upstairs." He pointed to the entrance then winced as he moved a little too fast. "Gaius Blaise and I'm Merlin. Just tell him… just…." Breathing through the pain that threatened to overwhelm him, he said, "Please, Arthur, no hospitals."

He must have heard the desperation in Merlin's voice, must have understood just how afraid he was, even after being beaten half to death. Arthur turned to the tall bearded man. "Leon, find this Doctor Blaise and get him down here. I don't think we should move… Merlin is it?... right now."

Leon nodded, rushed over to the flat door and let himself inside. Merlin could hear the man hurrying up the stairs and hard knocks above them.

"Leon and I can take care of this. Gwaine, could you please take Morgana home? It's late and I know she has plans for tomorrow." When she started to protest, Arthur just cut her off. "Not now, Morgana. Yes, I know you can fight better than any of us, you could probably terrorize the whole of East London with your mere presence but if things go south, I would prefer to know you are safe."

"Arthur, I didn't know you cared," she said, mocking and sarcastic. Another time, he'd have enjoyed their little snide remarks to each other. Instead he just wanted her to go. Every breath was agony and their arguing was taking what little strength he had left.

Then Gaius was hurrying toward him, his old physician's bag in hand. Kneeling down, his breath hitching as he gazed at Merlin - he must have looked a fright, and he said, "Merlin, what happened? Can you describe where it hurts?"

Grabbing his shirt-sleeve, pulling him closer, Merlin tried not to cough as he said, "Everywhere. That fucker pulled out my arm, Gaius. God, it hurts. And he… they kicked me in the leg, punched in the… stomach, my face."

The old man was touching him, along his cheek, where his arm would have met his shoulder but now was just a fire-storm of pain, his abdomen. "Does it feel like anything is broken?"

"No, but please Gaius, no hospitals, please." His heart was racing, fear sheeting through him and it was almost more torment than his shoulder. He couldn't go back, not again. "Please, no."

Arthur's concerned face frowned down at him and then turned, puzzled, toward Gaius. "He said that before, about the hospital."

"Yes, he would." The old man nodded and then looked up past Merlin to someone behind him. "I have a table in the back of my shop that I can use to examine him." He reached into one pocket, pulled out a set of old-fashioned keys, held one up, "Here is the key for the gate." Then holding up another, he shoved the lot into Leon's hands. "The larger one opens the door. There's a leather stretcher hanging on the wall by the back door. Bring it."

Two men hurried past but Merlin ignored them, was panting, trying to breathe out the pain. With every beat of his heart, it seemed to be getting worse. "My shoulder, it hurts so much. Can you… I think it's… hurts."

"It's dislocated." Gaius wasn't looking at Merlin but towards Arthur. "Can you hold him down?"

For a moment, Arthur looked ill but then he nodded sharply and put his hands on Merlin's other shoulder and under his arm, steadying him. "Ready whenever you are."

Merlin didn't want to see what Gaius was about to do. He knew it was going to hurt, probably worse than anything he'd ever felt before and in a way, it was easier to watch Arthur leaning over him, looking so steadfast and true; he'd had a lifetime of gazing into those blue eyes, now filled with compassion and dismay and yet ever determined to see it through.

He felt more than heard Gaius say, "Merlin, I'm sorry." There was a steady warmth on his injured arm, growing shards of pain stabbing into his shoulder and hands, across his skin and into the spasming muscles as it was lifted, slowly rotated up, torture as Gaius pushed and pulled, feeling for the socket, as he forced Merlin's arm above his head.

And there was an unendurable moment, he was shaking uncontrollably, and as the bone popped back into its socket, black and red shredded him and such pain that he couldn't help but arch up, screaming. But Arthur kept holding onto him as he tried to breathe, sobbing at the memory of it.

Still spilling tears and obscenities, but even as he cried out, recognized the agony, it was already settling down into shudders and a kind of aching release. He slumped, feeling the cool of the cement under his back, breathing easier for it.

"Better?" Gaius's worried face was still watching him, assessing his reactions. "Once we get inside, cold compresses on your shoulder. I can't give you much for the pain, in case of bleeding and perhaps hydromorphone or one of the other opiates but then there are hallucinations associated with it at times and we know that you have…." He trailed off, muttering to himself, then as the two men returned with the stretcher, he said, "Ah, at last. Do you think you can slide onto it?"

Merlin just nodded and as Leon and Percival laid it next to him, he slowly moved, careful not to jostle his arm, onto the leather stretcher. He hated feeling so helpless but he wasn't about to argue with Gaius, not with Arthur watching.

It also didn't help his dizziness to be carried like some kind of meat, feeling off-kilter as the two larger men lifted him up and started walking through the shop, swaying with each step - or the embarrassment that he was beginning to feel every time Arthur glanced his way. He should have been stronger than this, able to take the pain somehow or at least not been so stupid as to get beaten up by that bastard, Valiant.

"If necessary, we will go to the A&E for x-rays. You may have broken bones. No arguments, Merlin."

He hadn't been listening, instead watching and pretending not to watch Arthur as Gaius swept his potion table clean and he was gently laid down on it, the leather stretcher still under him. The agony of his shoulder was subsiding a bit but the deep bruises and cuts across his skin were not exactly pain-free, either. He knew things might be broken, too, and the A&E would have equipment and pain killers that Gaius didn't have available in the shop.

But when he heard Gaius mention the place, his fears started up again. They'd treated him before with drugs and accusations and even though one part of him had recognized that they were just trying to help, another part of him was screaming for them to leave him the fuck alone.

He wouldn't make a fuss, not with Arthur studying him so closely, but he'd be damned if he'd go back, no matter how much pain he was in.

Gaius might be an old man but once he had a patient, he was all efficiency. He shoved an ice pack onto Merlin's shoulder. "Twenty minutes on and then in three or four hours another twenty minutes."

While Merlin gingerly held it in place, the old man pushed up his dirty t-shirt and was already painfully prodding at his abdomen, nodding goodbye to Leon and Percival, thanking them even as he was shooing them out of the shop.

It was embarrassing to be half-naked in front of this Arthur. In his dreams, he'd seen him nude, both them tangled beneath the sheets, sharing laughter and lust and love. But only in his dreams, not this reality of bruised flesh and pain.

When Gaius pulled off Merlin's trainers and it looked like he was going to undress him further, examination or not, it was just too much. He hissed at him to stop, eyes widening as he flicked a look in Arthur's direction. He could feel his face flushing and Gaius, not as oblivious as he seemed, turned to the other, said, "Thank you for helping Merlin. It might have ended differently if you had not come along when you did."

"Just glad that I could help."

Arthur seemed reluctant to go, was still looking at Merlin as if he wanted to say something else. But with Gaius staring at him, using that damn eyebrow of his as a weapon, Arthur gave up, bowing slightly in defeat and then as he started for the door and his still waiting taxi, he said, "I'd like to check back tomorrow, see how he's doing?"

"Assuming nothing is broken, he should be able to receive visitors by evening." Gaius looked up, frowned slightly. "And your name?"

"Arthur Pendracan. I live on Richmond Road, a couple of miles from here."

Merlin could feel Gaius twitching at that, his hands betraying him, almost as if he'd been trying to figure something out and only now realized what it was. "Any relation to Uther Pendracan, head of Draca Enterprises?"

Arthur looked surprised. "My father. Do you know him?"

"I did know him once. You were maybe three or four last time I saw you, fighting with a plastic sword, I believe, insisting you were King Arthur of Camelot. Very forcibly, too, I might add." Gaius gave him an indulgent smile. "Yes, well…," Now it was Arthur who seemed embarrassed. Shrugging, steadfastly not looking at Merlin, he said, "I outgrew that whole King Arthur nonsense years ago." "I'm sure you did." Gaius pushed at Merlin's ribs and he let out a yelp as the old man's fingers dug in. With a worried scowl, his voice growing distant, no longer paying attention to Arthur but rather trying to find every bruised spot on Merlin's body, he said, "Thank you again for your help. I think you probably saved Merlin's life tonight." Arthur sent one final glance toward him, his eyes lighting a bit and with a slight smile, he said, "Any time." And then Gaius and Merlin were alone.

"Bloody hell, did you have to try and take off all my clothes in front of him? I thought I'd die of embarrassment."

Even as he was yelling at Gaius, the pain was flaring again, his shoulder, his leg, his increasingly tender face and now there was a kind of sharp twinge in his side but he ignored it as best he could. Arthur had been standing there, close enough to touch and Merlin kept remembering things that were just not true but oh, he wished they had been. And it was obvious that Gaius didn't understand anything of what he was going through.

It just wasn't fair.

"I have to assess the damage and I can't do that through those filthy jeans. Or we can do this at the hospital. I'm sure they would be less understanding than I am," Gaius said calmly, standing there with arms folded and a determined frown on his face. "Now where does it hurt? And don't bother telling me that you are fine when it is clear you are not."

"I'm fine."

Of course, that turned into an argument with Gaius putting his foot down and a final compromise that satisfied no one. Merlin was allowed to go upstairs to his own bed, not lie there in the cold dark of Gaius's shop if he was able but come morning, Merlin would go to the A&E for x-rays and further assessment.

Gaius could be stubborn but Merlin was even more so. It didn't matter that his shoulder was on fire or that it hurt like hell to put one foot and then another onto the stairs, to gather enough energy to pull himself up the long steep climb to his own room but at last it was done. Gaius fussed and pushed pillows under him and helped him clean the blood off his face; he didn't dare look in the mirror, especially with the old man clucking at him.

Finally he was able to get Gaius to leave him alone, for a little while at least and he slumped down in exhaustion. He kept playing images from the fight in his head and Arthur's rescue. Valiant seemed half-mad with fury but Merlin knew it wasn't the end of it. Injured like he was, he'd be more vulnerable than ever and it might be that he'd have to stay out of sight for a while.

He hoped that Valiant wouldn't go after Arthur, though. It seemed that Pendracan could take care of himself but still it was worrying. But Arthur was also surrounded by friends, and Merlin could take comfort in that at least.


	2. Chapter 2

_A sea of red velvet, embroidered cushions scratching at him but he didn't care. Arthur was touching him, scraping teeth across his throat, his hand wrapped around Merlin, squeezing, pulling, drawing him back into ecstasy. Smells heavy with sweat and outdoors and Arthur's own scent and there were groans as Merlin dug his face deeper into him, licking at the pulse under his mouth, feeling it race, his own thundering loud enough for all of Camelot to hear. Pleasure intense and spilling over as red merged into white bliss, lust and love and a thousand things he wanted and all of them Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. _

_Beyond the candles burst into flame and there was a thump as something fell off the table and Arthur was laughing, the sheer joy of what they were sharing and his voice roughened into moans and then silence as he shuddered out his release. _

_Of course, he collapsed on top of Merlin and he had to nudge him off, chuckling as he did. Arthur just lay there, too sated to do anything else, the cabbage head. But rather than the lazybones king prattling on about it, Merlin reached up, using a pulse of magic to grab one of Arthur's shirts and began to wipe them both. And, nuzzling against Merlin's skin, Arthur laughed, sounding so content and relaxed, as if he hadn't a kingdom to run, and…._

Merlin woke to disorientation. His lights were on; he supposed Gaius had come in during the night to examine him and forgotten to turn them off again. But his torn shirt was in his hands and smelling of sex and although still aching from his run-in with Valiant, he felt boneless, as if he'd just had the best shag of his life. Considering the dream, perhaps he had.

With the other nightmares, he'd wanted to rid himself of them quickly, pouring them all into his computer as fast as his fingers could fly across the keyboard. But this time, he savoured it: the sound of Arthur's laughter, the smell of skin and sex and love, skin sliding across his, Arthur moaning into him as if he wanted to bury himself in Merlin and never come out again.

He knew it wouldn't happen in real life but still he smiled at the memory. Then exhausted, sleep dragging him down, he lay back, and without thought, with a wave of his hand, he turned out the lights.

He'd write about it in the morning.

* * *

Gaius denied ever turning the lights on but it didn't matter. Much as Merlin did not want to think about the hospital, he didn't really have much choice. The bruises were worse and he could see that his uncle was concerned. So reluctantly, very reluctantly, Merlin agreed to go for x-rays and treatment.

It took hours but it was relatively good news. One of his ribs was badly cracked and there was a hairline fracture in his cheekbone; although the bruises were severe and his lower leg sprained, they didn't seem to be life-threatening. Gaius's actions with his dislocated shoulder had proved effective and while there was pain, it was okay, even if the sling to keep his shoulder from getting worse made it difficult to do anything but look pathetic.

Of course, his uncle would have to monitor him in case any of his symptoms changed. He came out of A&E with pain killers, stitches on his leg and face and embarrassment. At least they didn't hound him this time about the nightmares.

After that, Gaius insisted that they talk with the police, something that Merlin adamantly refused to do. He'd already had run-ins with them and they weren't likely to believe him anyway, not with his history. Besides, Valiant would be even more likely to take revenge if he did.

So it was with silent glares and old-man frowns that they returned to the flat. Merlin iced his shoulder, drank some disgusting soup that Gaius heated up and waited for Arthur to keep his promise to visit.

And waited and waited and waited.

Until it was dark and noisy outside with drunks and music and still no Arthur and then quiet again as the hours passed.

Gaius didn't say anything but it was clear from his worried looks and careful avoidance of any mention of Arthur that he thought he wasn't coming.

The arse hadn't even called. There were no messages on the answering machine.

He kept trying to find excuses but in the end, Merlin gave up. He knew that he'd never fit into Arthur's posh lifestyle but still it hurt - almost as much as that horrible day when he'd found out about Merlin's magic and tried to kill him for it.

But… but… Merlin shook his head.

That memory, no matter how vivid, didn't make sense. Arthur had certainly _not_ tried to kill him and besides, there was no magic.

Magic was a fairy story made up to entertain small, impressionable minds until they realized that their parents had been lying to them all along. Yes, there were magicians on the telly doing tricks for money and fame but magic, real magic was just a myth.

Obviously, Merlin had had a harder knock on his head than even Gaius had realized - or it could be the pain killers. He'd been warned about hallucinations.

Staring up into the darkness, he tried not to think about any of it. There was no magic, Arthur wasn't interested, and no matter how much Merlin might want it otherwise, he needed to accept that this was his life now.

Bugger it all.

* * *

He lost his job at the club. After all, he couldn't carry tubs of dishes and even working at the bar or kitchen was impossible with his arm in a sling. But that gave him more time to write and even though he steadfastly refused to jot down the dreams of him and Arthur - which were occurring all too frequently for Merlin's peace of mind, he was able to finish a couple more stories and send them off.

However, the hallucinations still continued. He'd find odd things in odder places: his clock on top of his wardrobe, boots that he hadn't known he owned at the foot of his bed, red cloth looking very much like a neckerchief draped over his computer, a book written in what he thought was gibberish but later found to be old English lying open on his chair. When he woke in the morning, even the lights that he knew he'd turned off were still on.

There was only one explanation. He must be sleep-walking.

He didn't dare tell Gaius; it would only worry his uncle or else start him on another tirade about magic and destinies, or worse, force Merlin back to the mental ward.

It did take his mind off Arthur, though, at least for a little while.

And so it went on for days and days. The sling came off, physical therapy started and the stitches were removed. The bruising faded into purples and pinks and things were settling down at last.

* * *

Gorlois Publishing was in London's West End, one of the many buildings full of business and bustle, certain to crush lesser beings who might have the gall to try and enter its aristocratic halls.

Merlin was understandably nervous, of course. They emailed him, wanting to discuss his latest stories with him in person. That was odd in and of itself; they'd never asked to see him before, only sent him a cheque if they wanted to publish something or a rejection letter if they didn't.

Annoyingly, Gaius was thrilled and kept giving him pep talks, all the while criticizing his choice of clothing, his hair, the way he slumped as he sat and anything else that came to mind. The old man meant well but the last few weeks had been hard on them both.

Ever since he'd got the email, Merlin felt off-kilter as though something was about to change and he wasn't sure if he knew how to deal with it or even why he felt that way. And he couldn't tell Gaius.

The meeting, whatever it was about, at least got him out of the flat.

On the top floor, looking out over a small green square, the offices for an M. Gorlois, the person he had the appointment with, were as posh as any he'd seen. Chandeliers, wood panelling, shiny tile floors that Merlin ached to slide across were just part of the package. The people there were dressed well, button-down shirts and more suits than he'd seen anywhere. His clean trousers and grey jumper were shabby by comparison.

The office door was closed but the personal assistant told him to wait there, and that Ms. Gorlois would be with him shortly. He tried to remember everything Gaius had told him but it was all lost somewhere back in Dalston. He shifted uneasily, wishing for a drink or two or ten, and when the door started to open, he stumbled back a bit, hitting the chair behind him. Grunting in pain, he turned to look down and see what he'd done to his leg this time.

Then, impossibly, just on the other side of the door, he heard Arthur's voice, sounding guilt-touched as if he didn't believe what he was saying but saying it anyway. "I don't care what you think, Morgana. Father said that his uncle killed my mother. It doesn't matter what I feel or could feel for him, it's not going to work."

Not wanting to be caught spying even if he wasn't doing it on purpose, Merlin pushed himself backwards, away from the door. Bumping his bloody leg again, muffling a curse as he did so, he wondered who Arthur could be talking about. His mother killed and yet he felt something for the nephew of the man who did it? No wonder Arthur seemed upset.

But it was none of his business; it was probably some posh git that Arthur hung around with. It certainly wasn't Merlin. It had been weeks since his beating and Arthur had never contacted him. Besides, Gaius was no murderer; the very idea was absurd.

"So you are just going to mope. That's not like you."

Although her tone was gentle, Arthur seemed to be in no mood for it. His laugh was glass-sharp, bitter. "No, usually I go out and find someone else to shag but he's… I tried to forget him, Morgs, I did but there is just something about him."

There was movement, the door beginning to swing open, then stopping as Morgana said, "Then do something about it. At least find out if there is anything there or if it's just because you rescued him and got to feel like a hero."

Hero? Rescue?

It couldn't be. They couldn't be talking about him. Even as his brain was catching up to the possibility of it, Merlin realized how it would look for him to be there, just outside, listening to them. It would be bad, really bad.

But he was trapped by a line of chairs and a desk beyond. He'd have to vault over the bloody things to get away without being seen. And there were people going back and forth and they'd see him running away, even if he did manage it. Fucking hell, he was in for it.

"It's not… Father would never forgive me." The door was swinging open, Arthur still looking into the office.

But it was already too late. Merlin could see Morgana recognizing him, her eyes widening in shock and then her gaze flicked up to Arthur again. "You won't know until you try."

Arthur shook his head, said, "It's just not possible." He shoved the door wide, started to turn and Merlin was floundering back, dropping down into the leather chair nearest him, gaping up at him.

For just an instant, Arthur seemed happy to see him, his eyes lighting up but then he quickly turned cold, saying sharply, "What are you doing here?"

It killed him to see Arthur like that, so suspicious of why he was there, probably thinking that he was spying on him or trying to push some kind of agenda. And for a moment, he couldn't think of anything to say, too embarrassed and horrified at meeting him again like that to try and explain.

Finally, he stammered out, "I'm here to see my… publisher, Ms. Gorlois."

Arthur shot a look back at Morgana, frowning at them both, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Your publi… you write?"

The way Arthur said it made Merlin furious. He might be poor but he wasn't an idiot. He shoved himself out of the chair, scowling at the git. "Yes, I write, if it's any of your business. It's not like we had time to exchange life stories or that you'd even want to hear it, not the way you…," He stopped, realizing that Morgana was listening to every word and while he wanted to yell at Arthur for being an arse, it wasn't a good idea to do that in front of someone who wanted to buy his stories. With a quick glare at Arthur, he turned to Morgana and said, "Sorry, Ms. Gorlois, if I've done anything wrong. It… it wasn't intentional."

It would seem Morgana wasn't pleased with Arthur as well. Sending a frown in his direction, she turned back to Merlin and smiled. "You must be M.E. Ambrose, my four o'clock."

Taking a deep breath, he said, "It's my pseudonym." He was steadfastly not looking at Arthur. He wasn't going to let the idiot muck up his appointment, more than he already had. It was bad enough as it was. "I'm Merlin Emrys. I want to thank you for seeing me."

"Thank you for coming in." Gesturing him into her office, her smile turned sharp as Arthur started to follow. "Arthur, why don't you run along now? I'm sure you have lots to do and we wouldn't want Uther sending his toadies to find you."

If looks could kill, Morgana would have turned to ash in that moment. But with a quick speculative glance toward Merlin, Arthur turned and stalked down the hallway, muttering to himself about harpies who should keep their mouths shut. Then Morgana closed the door and Merlin couldn't hear anything else.

As he sat down, perched uncomfortably on the edge of his seat, everything Gaius had told him about interviews flew out of his head. "I didn't know… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to listen but the door was open and I… sorry."

She seemed more amused by his muddled apology than annoyed. "My step-brother is confused but I'm sure he'll come around eventually."

"Some people can't wait that long." His chest hurt and not just from the broken rib. His feelings for Arthur were muddled, dreams of soft kisses and gentle touches all jumbled up with the reality of the bloody arse. Even after weeks of silence, he'd still hoped for something more. But it was not to be and the sooner he accepted it, the better. "Sorry, Ms. Gorlois, it's none of my business. If you want, I can leave. I wouldn't want there to be trouble."

"Nonsense. Just because my step-brother is being a pillock about it all doesn't mean that I don't want to talk to you about a project I have in mind. And call me Morgana." As she was talking, she opened a folder, and spread out the documents across her desk.

"I… thank you, Ms… Morgana?" He kept glancing down at the printed sheets, trying to read what was written there. "Project? I'm not sure…."

She waited a second, watching him carefully and then leaning back, said, "My company is always on the lookout for new talent. You've submitted several stories, three of which we've bought and the latest one shows great promise for something more." Flattening her hands over the papers, she looked at him squarely. "However, with the current publication field, short stories aren't selling all that well."

So it wasn't about Arthur or buying more stories but reneging on the sale. She wanted her money back. As if he still had it.

"Oh, okay, I guess…." His mind was already trying to figure out what to do next when she leaned forward, gazed at him steadily.

"No, I think you misunderstood. I'd like you to consider writing a book, possibly a series. Singles don't tend to make money but series are quite profitable."

Merlin was stunned. He had enough material for several books but still, the thought of writing a novel was intimidating to say the least. He could do it. The thought of making more than a tiny pittance with his stories was breathtaking but still, it would be hard work and long nights.

"But I… I didn't think you'd want books on King Arthur. There are tons out there already."

"True enough but yours is an interesting take on the legends." She pushed one of the documents over to him and he picked it up, not really seeing it, other than it was legalese and what looked like a timeline. "Take this home with you. Look it over. It gives you more detail on what we are looking for. I'd like you to submit a detailed outline for the first book, a somewhat less detailed outline for the next two, plus ten pages of the first chapter. If it shows as much promise as your shorter pieces, we may have a long and fruitful relationship."

For a moment, he just sat there, mouth open. Then realizing that she was waiting for him, he said, "I'm overwhelmed, Ms…. Morgana. Thank you."

With that, she smiled, a real smile that lit up her eyes. "Good. Now that that's finished, how are you doing? Last time I saw you, you looked pretty bad."

He didn't want to bore her with tales of stitches and pain and bruises that still ached in spots. So instead, he shrugged it off and smiled back at her. "I… well, I broke a few things, and I'm in therapy for my shoulder. Looked worse than it was."

"Ah, modest, too, I see. Well, I'll let you go. Feel free to call or email me with any questions and I hope to see your first book published before long."

And with that, his life seemed to have got a whole lot better.

* * *

Of course, that feeling lasted about ten minutes, just enough time for Arthur to ambush him as he came out of the lift.

"Do you always listen in on conversations that don't concern you?"

He hadn't expected Arthur to be there, hadn't really expected Arthur at all. Merlin thought that he'd never see him again except in his dreams and instead he got clot Arthur being a complete arse about something that wasn't his fault.

"The door was open," he said sharply, trying to get away from him as fast as his bloody legs would carry him. "I wasn't listening on purpose. I'd hurt my leg on your fucking chair and I… never mind." He jostled past someone, escaped through the doors and out of the building, but Arthur managed to catch up, even got in front of him and forced him to stop. "It doesn't matter, anyhow."

His voice still sharp, half-wary, Arthur said, "If I misjudged you, then I'm sorry. It's just that…," He seemed to think better of whatever else he was going to say, shaking his head and frowning a bit. "So you were really there to see Morgana?"

That just pissed him off even more. Did Arthur really think that Merlin was following him around or making up meetings so he could see him, like some kind of nutter?

Then again, he didn't really know Arthur; he had this image in his head from those bloody dreams or visions or memories or whatever the hell they were and it wasn't real, couldn't be real. Maybe Arthur didn't think, just jumped into fights, tried to look like some fucking gorgeous superhero and then sped off into the night never to be seen again.

"Ask Morgana since you obviously won't believe me." Merlin guessed that ordinary people didn't talk to Arthur like that, because he had this stupid astonished look on his face. But Merlin wasn't about to stay there and argue with the arse. It was just making him furious.

He stepped around Arthur, trying to get away, but of course the entitled idiot grabbed at him, jostling his shoulder. "Ow! Fuck, that hurt."

Arthur let go immediately, put his hands up and away to show that he wasn't touching Merlin, and then lowered them slowly. "Stop running away, then."

"I'm not running away. I'm using an exit strategy to remove myself from your presence." It sounded good even as he said it, very posh and scholarly, and he would have been writing it down if Arthur wasn't staring him in the face.

It was also a lie. He _was_ running away but he'd be damned if he'd tell Arthur that.

Arthur didn't look like he believed it, either. His eyes narrowed, a frown twisting his face and he jerked his head to one side, indicating a small doorway nearby, away from the bustle of the evening rush-hour crowd. For a moment, Merlin hesitated.

"Can we at least talk about this?"

Arthur had a point. If nothing else, Merlin should put his confusion about Arthur behind him, and if it took a few minutes talking with him, then so much the better.

Settling against the wall, arms folded, feeling miserable and unbalanced and muddled, Merlin said, "There is nothing to talk about. You rescued me, then vanished into the night and that was that. Thanks, by the way."

He didn't mean to sound like he was ungrateful; he wasn't. He knew that if Arthur hadn't interfered, he'd be dead by now. But it was coming out all wrong and he didn't know how to stop making snide remarks. The damn clot was driving him crazy and Merlin's mouth just kept spewing out shit even while his brain was yelling for him to shut up.

Scowl deepening, Arthur said, "What is your problem?"

"That you thought I wasn't worth bothering with after the fact." Wonderful, he was just digging himself in deeper and deeper, making himself look even more pathetic. Arthur must think him a complete loser. Desperately, he said, "Don't worry about it. Doesn't matter. Not important. Are we done here?"

Wanting to disappear into the pavement and never come out again, nevertheless, Merlin stood his ground, waiting for Arthur to say yes, that they were done, now and forever, and for him to walk away.

But instead, scowl deepening, Arthur stared back at him, looking as if he thought Merlin was out of his mind to be talking to him that way. Finally, he said, "Look, I'm trying to apologize but you are making it very difficult. Are you always like this?"

"No, apparently you bring out the best in me." In another time, long ago, it might have been said with great affection. Now, all Merlin could do was cringe and hope to escape before long.

"If this is your best, I'd hate to see your worst," Arthur said dryly.

"Yeah, well, no one wants to see that. Now, if you don't mind, I have a train to catch." As an afterthought, Merlin looked down at his watch, trying to appear concerned about the time, before glancing up again to see Arthur giving him a look of confused disbelief.

"Merlin, it's the Tube and they leave every ten minutes, you know."

How could Arthur be so nice to him when he'd all but jumped down his throat? He behaved so badly and he still couldn't explain why. All those thoughts muddled up in his head and he didn't know how to deal with them and he knew if Arthur ever found out about him, the real him with the nightmares and the hospitals and everything else, he'd walk away and never look back.

But at least there was one thing he could do to make amends for being such an arse himself.

Taking a deep breath, bracing himself to make sure to get this one thing right and not muck it up, he said, "I… well I want to thank you for what you did. Valiant would have killed me otherwise and it was very…" Arthur was watching him and it made him so nervous but he ploughed on, "Very brave of you. Most people would have just kept going."

"Look, I know I made a mistake. Let me make it up to you. I know an excellent restaurant nearby." When Merlin started to shake his head, unsure of where this was all going, Arthur said, "My treat as payment for being such an arse."

He wanted to say yes, desperately wanted to, but he couldn't let Arthur take him to someplace posh and then pay for it, not when Merlin had behaved like such an utter idiot. "But I don't want to be… well, how about we just find someplace cheap and I'll treat you. You know, for rescuing me." Then giving Arthur an uncertain smile, he said, "Besides, I think I was more of an arse than you."

The grin Arthur sent back was brilliant. "Competition as to who was the worse arse? You're on. And if you are that concerned, we can just split the bill." When he started to protest again, Arthur ignored him, started walking down the street, then waited until Merlin caught up with him. "There's a noodle bar around the corner, cheap and filling and pretty good, too. Come on."


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur wasn't lying about the noodle bar. The food was good and cheap enough for even Merlin's pocket and best of all, no one bothered them once they sat down.

"So writing. I wouldn't have pegged you for a writer type."

It was all Merlin could do not to roll his eyes. "What, you think that I can't write and wash dirty dishes at the same time?"

Arthur shook his head, not quite snorting but close to it, then grinned. "No, I figured you more for the mad scientist in the basement type… or a magician."

There were alarm bells going off in his head. He didn't want to talk about it, not about the nightmares or that sometimes strange things happened around him that he couldn't explain or the way his life was so mucked up because of his past. He said flatly, "There's no such thing as magic."

Arthur seemed taken aback at his vehemence. "I would have figured with your name it would have been a natural progression."

"My mum had a sense of humour, nothing more." Tensing, hoping that Arthur would drop it, he said, "So how about you? Thinking of taking over the universe or are you just in line for the throne?"

It must have been obvious that he was changing the subject but Arthur didn't seem to mind. He gave Merlin a little shrug and then, relaxing, flashed a wicked grin at him. "Well, the whole throne thing is a bit clichéd, don't you think? I may be ten thousandth in line for it but it's mostly from Harold's losing side. 1066 and all that." His grin grew wider. "Taking over the universe is more my style anyway."

Merlin did roll his eyes at that.

"Not quite believing the universe thing, are you?" Arthur let out a sharp, amused huff and then leaning forward, seemed to warm to it, growing excited as he said, "Yeah, well, I went through the usual obsessions as a kid; fireman, police, secret agent. My fascination with Indiana Jones style exploits lasted a bit longer, all the way to university but my father reminded me of family obligations and the fact that I'd make little money traipsing through the wilds of the Yucatan looking for lost cities. Plus I never got the hang of the whip. I work for Draca Enterprises on macroeconomic policy."

"Sounds… interesting." Merlin had no idea what that was but if Arthur was happy doing it, that was good enough for him. He did think Arthur would have made a wonderful adventurer, though, whip failure aside.

"Just a polite way of saying that it's boring as hell." Arthur nodded, didn't seem to be offended that Merlin seemed more confused than excited about his work. "It is sometimes but I get to make decisions on whole divisions within the company and sometimes shape how products come about. It's not quite a kingdom but I feel like I'm really doing something useful."

For a moment, after that, Merlin didn't know what to say. Arthur's world was so far above his own that it didn't seem possible they'd have anything in common. But Arthur didn't seem to mind, kept looking at him as if trying to memorize his face. It was both disconcerting and terribly stirring, in more ways than one.

He was growing hard under that gaze, his heart quickening, a flush burning his cheeks. He didn't know if Arthur was interested in him sexually but oh, how he wanted to find out. He looked down at his hands; unsurprisingly, Arthur's fingertips were only a hairs-breadth from his. And as Merlin shifted in his seat, there was suddenly skin against skin, the merest touch, but it felt like so much more. And Arthur didn't move away.

But he didn't ask, either, at least not about desire. Instead, Arthur said, "Was that the first time you got attacked?"

"No, Valiant likes to pick on people he thinks are smarter than him, which means just about everyone." Remembering how badly he'd been hurt, Merlin drew back, shuddering as he did. "He was drunk and spoiling for a fight. I just happened to be clumsy enough to trip over his boots."

"Will he be coming after you?" Leaning forward, Arthur seemed genuinely concerned, all intensity and focus, the hero in him shining through.

"Most likely. I've been staying out of his way."

That was one way of putting it. The truth was that Merlin had been hiding in the flat ever since that day, hoping that Valiant would get bored and forget about him.

Frowning, Arthur's hand shot out, clamped down on Merlin's wrist, squeezing a bit. "You _have_ gone to the police about this."

His heart was racing and Merlin could feel his face heating up again. That touch made him burn for something more than conversation, even in a noodle bar surrounded by the evening rush. Trying not to push into the warmth of Arthur's skin, he said, "It would only make things worse."

"Merlin…," At that point, Arthur should have let go, should have treated it as a friendly gesture, nothing serious, nothing more. But instead his hand slid down to cover Merlin's, his thumb stroking slowly, slowly across his skin, leaving a heated trail of want. "All right, fine. Just lay low, okay?"

"Pla… planning on it," Merlin stammered.

Arthur was watching him carefully and this felt so much like flirting, like a shag waiting to happen that he was starting to panic. He wasn't sure he'd be able to lose himself in Arthur and then never see him again. Of course, it was probably just a casual fuck for Arthur; with him being posh and fit and all that golden skin, he must have countless offers. And yet, oh how Merlin wanted it, even if he knew it would break him apart.

He needed to gain some control. As casually as he could, he pulled his hand out from under Arthur's, saying, "I hadn't seen you at the club before."

A frown, confused and cooling, Arthur looked almost disappointed. "I've just moved into my new flat over by Lincoln Fields, The Arthaus. My mate, Leon, suggested it since it wasn't too far away."

Of course, he would live there, with those clean lines and impossible prices. "Posh place, I've heard. You've seen where I live, just above Gaius's shop. I rent a room from him."

"You aren't going to hold it against me, are you? One of those inverted snobs that think all rich people are scum?" He said it, half-mocking, but Merlin got the feeling that Arthur wasn't joking, that he must have had problems before.

"Nah, you seem alright."

Sending Arthur a tentative smile, he thought maybe he'd been wrong, that it wasn't a one off thing, that he might want him for something more than just a shag. Maybe the Arthur of his dreams was somehow here, with him and that it could be brilliant.

He might have found what he'd been looking for after all these years.

Nodding, Arthur grinned back. "So do you."

And with that, Merlin nudged his hand closer and somehow their fingers were tangled together and there were heated glances and he was growing hard again just looking at him. The noodle bar was clearing out but much as he wanted, so very much, he wasn't about to take Arthur into the toilets and have his way with him. He wanted whatever this was to be perfect, especially for their first time.

He was about to suggest that they go back to his place or at least somewhere they wouldn't be disturbed and find out just where this was leading when Arthur said, "I'll have to thank Morgana. If she hadn't been such a pain in the arse, I might have never seen you again. "

"So why didn't you, you know, come back?"

The conversation he'd overheard had been pretty clear, family overriding everything else but he wanted Arthur to tell him, not make assumptions that might not be true.

Arthur's gaze dropped to their hands, all the warmth and promise held there, and for a moment, he was silent. Then, looking more than a little guilty, refusing to meet Merlin's eyes, he said, "When I mentioned you and your uncle to my father, he went crazy. I'd never seen him so upset. He insisted that I not see you again. Said your family was trouble and I should stay away or else."

Arthur didn't know Gaius as he did but if he really believed that his uncle was a murderer, then Merlin could almost understand the reasons why Arthur never came back. Still it hurt.

It was all so confusing. His dream-Arthur overlaying this Arthur and the reality wasn't quite what he'd hoped and yet somehow it was more. He had to keep telling himself that he didn't know this man at all, no matter how much alike they looked and acted, and, damn it, felt to be around.

"Gaius would never murder anyone, no matter what your father said."

But Arthur shook his head, as if Merlin's defence of him was expected and as quickly dismissed because of who he was.

"My father was pretty adamant about it." He looked up then but when Merlin didn't say anything, just pulled his hands away and leaned back, folding his arms around his chest, the gesture as full of accusation as a shout, Arthur said, "I don't want to get into an argument. I had enough of those already with him."

"I don't want to argue either but you can't expect me to let it go. My uncle took me in when I had no one else and he's been so understanding of my…," Merlin stopped, suddenly aware that he was about to spill his secrets to a near stranger. "I don't think you can assume your father is right, just because he says so."

"I wasn't, I don't," Arthur said. Then letting out a long, annoyed breath, his scowl smoothed out and he pushed forward, his hands more than half-way across the table as if reaching out to Merlin again, as if trying to get past whatever disagreements they might have between them.

"I wasn't assuming anything but that's not... look, I didn't come to see you because, well, I thought it wasn't worth a big fight with him. You have no idea what he's like. I couldn't take the chance of things getting really bad. I wanted to come but…."

In that moment, Arthur was so like the other man, the young prince of his memories or deliriums or dreams or whatever it was called, that it hurt to look at him - the royal prat who bowed before Uther's displeasure, accepted the constant reminders about how servants weren't really people, about how peasants were as disposable as yesterday's rubbish. The arse who defended his father even when he knew he was wrong.

And here was the reality; Merlin was still disposable, still a waste of Arthur's time.

"I wasn't worth the risk," he said flatly.

"Merlin, that's not what I meant." But Arthur's vehement denial just proved how much of it was the truth.

At least he knew now where he stood in Arthur's life, not at the beginning of something perhaps brilliant but an inconvenience. Staring at him as Merlin pushed away from the table and stood, he said, "I understand. I'm just some poor fool you rescued and then felt guilty about and with your father making noises about my family, I see how things are."

Arthur shot to his feet, started to round the table. "Merlin, that's not…."

But Merlin just shook his head. "Most people wouldn't, you know, have checked to see how I was, so yeah it really is okay. Good for you." As he turned away, he said, "I have to go."

"When can I see you again?"

Arthur's hand was on his arm, and he looked almost worried. Merlin glanced down at fingers clutching his grey jumper and then back up at him. Sadly, quietly, he said, "I don't think your father would approve, do you?"

"He doesn't have to know."

With that, he jerked out of Arthur's grasp, and started for the door. "Okay, right. Good-bye, Arthur."

He didn't look back.

* * *

By the time he got home, he'd calmed down. He didn't know why he'd reacted that way. Arthur was an idiot but he did seem sincere enough, when he wasn't crumbling under his father's commands.

Of course, that wasn't quite how it was. Arthur would believe his father over a stranger. Why would he not? After all, Merlin would believe Gaius over someone else that he'd just met. Arthur didn't know Merlin, had only seen him for a few minutes and even then Merlin had been in terrible pain and not at his best.

So, yeah, he understood why Arthur had chosen not to see someone his father disapproved of.

It didn't make him feel any better, though, and yet even that reaction was ridiculous.

Much as he didn't want to, he couldn't help having expectations of how Arthur would react. Those intense blue eyes reminded him of other times, dreams that were almost memories and he knew how his other self, his dream-self, had felt, pledging loyalty and undying love to the Arthur of long ago. But Arthur Pendracan of Draca Enterprises was not king of Camelot and Merlin certainly wasn't his bloody Court Sorcerer.

What a mess he'd made of things.

He had to decide if he'd try and see Arthur again, maybe apologize for being such an arse. That last comment about keeping Merlin some kind of dirty little secret from his obviously overbearing father didn't sit right with him. As if Merlin were rubbish.

Still confused though, he didn't really want to talk to Gaius about it. He knew the old man would try and give him advice but he'd mucked it up on his own and he really should figure it out himself.

Luckily, Gaius wasn't home. So at least for the moment, he could sulk in his room, whinge into the silence about how much of a fool he was, and in general feel sorry for himself.

It didn't help.

He even tried to go through the document Morgana had given him but all he did was read the same lines over and over again, the memory of blue eyes and golden hair haunting him. After a while, he gave up; instead he lay down and stared up at the ceiling, absentmindedly listening to the traffic.

It was fully dark outside when he heard Gaius on the stairs. He supposed that he should get up, tell his uncle about what happened, let him know that the Pendracans were telling lies about him.

But there must have been someone else with him. Not quite able to hear what they were saying, but the tone was calm and he wasn't worried. Gaius often had visitors talking about magic and spells and nonsense, and he'd hide in his room until they left. But a moment later, there was a knock on the door and Gaius poked his head in, turning the lights on when he saw Merlin sit up.

"Ah, good, you're awake. Arthur is here to see you, if you are able."

If anything, he'd not expected that. After their fight and in the hours since then, he'd given up ever seeing Arthur again.

Standing up as quickly as he could, looking around, he took in the mess of laundry on the floor and unmade bed, the pile of books on the small table. But it was too late to tidy up and besides, Arthur was probably there to yell at him again, and he'd be damned if he'd clean just for that.

Trying to calm his racing heart, he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I… okay, yeah, sure."

Beyond the door, he heard Arthur say, "Thank you, Doctor Blaise."

"Call me Gaius, my boy." His uncle backed away, let Arthur take a step into the room. "Merlin, don't forget your exercises. That shoulder won't heal properly otherwise."

"I won't." He couldn't keep his eyes off the bloody prat but as his uncle closed the door to give them some privacy, Merlin said, "Thanks, Gaius."

At least Arthur waited until they were alone before starting in on him. "So what the hell did you think you were doing running away like that?"

In an instant, Arthur had gone from calm and cool to looking as if he was about to go into battle, so fucking gorgeous with colour high on his cheeks, flushed and flustered, that Merlin could barely think to keep his hands off the man. As he stared at him, in all that warm flesh exposed by the open collar of his shirt, Merlin could almost see Arthur's pulse beating, beating, just below the skin and he ached to slide his tongue over the spot and find out if he could make Arthur groan Merlin's name.

Damn the man. He really needed to get some perspective before he completely lost it.

"I was removing myself from your presence." An echo of their earlier conversation and Merlin was happy to hear how indifferent he sounded when he was nothing of the sort.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur stepped closer. "Will you stop saying that? You're not as cultured as you think you are, you know. It's ridiculous."

That got his back up. He'd been thinking about shagging him and here Arthur was, insulting Merlin instead.

Leaning forward, glaring at the git - they were almost nose to nose - not that it was difficult in that small room but still, Merlin wasn't having any of it, he said, "Oh, so now you think I'm ridiculous. Perhaps you are here to give me lessons in etiquette? Since I'm obviously such a loser?"

"Do you get off picking fights with me?" Arthur said, sharply. "Because I can match you insult for insult, you dollop head."

Merlin's voice rose, cutting and furious. "I'm not a dollop head, you arse."

"Are we back to comparing arses? Because I can do that, too." For a moment, Arthur almost seemed amused by whatever this was, especially when his gaze flicked downward on the word 'arses', as if he were indeed checking Merlin out and then to add insult to injury, he smirked.

Merlin hated smirks.

Eyes narrowed, a scowl pulling at his still tender face, Merlin snapped, "You're a prize gi… Arthur, why are you here?"

Arthur's eyes turned dark, his breathing suddenly loud in the tiny room; he pulled Merlin to him, carefully but forceful enough that he was falling into Arthur's arms. Mouth hovering over his, Arthur said, "This."

The wanker was good, brilliant in fact. That hot exploration of lips and tongue kicked his blood into feverous overdrive and he didn't even try to escape, just fell deeper into the kiss. Arthur's fingers were busy, trailing across the hem of his shirt and up underneath, following skin and nerves already firing with want.

Yet, much as Merlin could feel the heat of him, Arthur was careful, too. He must have realized that Merlin was still healing and the gentle touch just made him eager for more.

Grinding frantically into him, Merlin grew hard, harder than he'd been in a long time and the frustration of cloth and jeans' zippers pushing across him was driving him crazy. But he didn't want to stop, not when he could taste Arthur, the liquid slide of tongue against his mouth, the little moans of desire, the way his touch was hot and sure and demanding as hell. Pleasure was rising fast, spiralling upward, turning his vision hazy with light and want.

Against him, Arthur's knee shoved between Merlin's legs and that just added to the blaze of it. Merlin was pulling him closer, trying to melt into him, hands on that perfect arse, fingers diving into the waistband and down. The idiot's jeans were tight, almost too tight for impatient hands and Merlin growled in frustration. He pushed Arthur's leg away, still exploring his wet mouth but also trying to get a grip on the zipper, trying to pull the damn thing down so he could touch him.

There was a laugh buried under the groans and Arthur batted Merlin's hands away, jerking his fly open. Merlin shoved in again, feeling how hard he was, moulding his hand around Arthur, pulling him closer.

Another laugh broke as Arthur's voice pitched down quickly into little grunts and half-spoken 'Merlin' sounds and then there was a long breathless moment before Arthur slumped forward, leaning into him as he did.

Arthur was still breathing heavily, his head nosing into Merlin's neck, the heady smell of sweat and Arthur's own unique scent surrounding him. As Arthur started to pull back, Merlin lifted his hand, clutching his shirt.

Still hard, aching for release, he steadied himself, desire pounding across his skin and into the core of him, the look Arthur gave him turned heat into swelling pleasure.

Arthur must have realized how much he wanted it because he was smiling, bloody hell he was smirking and Merlin didn't care about that, he just wanted more. And Arthur gave him more, kisses and skin and pressure rising, rising. White sparks were bursting behind his eyes and he felt like he was about to fly apart. Mounting bliss, a sunstorm of heat and warmth and as Arthur did incredible things with his mouth, Merlin couldn't hold back any longer.

A long moan, the universe ablaze with ecstasy in whites and golds and Pendracan reds and it felt like he was on fire, lost in the beauty of it. Lasting a lifetime and more and yet as he came down slowly from whatever bright place he'd been, there was Arthur still gazing at him, looking immensely smug.

It was a good thing Merlin was still leaning against the door because he didn't think he'd be able to stand otherwise.

As Arthur brushed his mouth against Merlin's, he said, "I like the way you fight." And then he gave him another smirk.

Obviously an idiot. Merlin was muddled about how Arthur could make him feel so brilliant and still be a git but he decided it didn't matter. "Prat."

At that, Arthur laughed. "Next time, I'll bring something a little kinky to try - if that's okay with you?"

Merlin was trying to regain his equilibrium, focused on the moment, on this one night and almost didn't understand what Arthur was saying. Kinkier? Next time?

"But I thought…." He was confused. He'd assumed that it was a one-time-only thing, that Arthur wouldn't defy his father enough for more.

"You were right. In your own stroppy way, you reminded me that I can't always let my father dictate who I am or who I can see."

"Arthur, are you sure?" Merlin couldn't believe that he was saying that but Arthur didn't deserve to be torn between his father and some guy he rescued off the street.

"Sure about us? No, not at all but I need to grow some bollocks. You've given me an incentive to try at least." With that, Arthur gave him a tentative smile and then kissing him again, all tongue and wet heat, he let him go. "I didn't plan on it, you know, but I'd like to see you again, well if we can stop arguing for ten seconds."

"I can try," Merlin said, grinning back at him.

"Good." Another long kiss. "I've got a business meeting tomorrow and I need to prepare. How about Friday? We could go to the club if you like or someplace quieter?"

"I've been… um staying away from the club. Valiant hangs out there quite a bit." Merlin took out his mobile, handed it to Arthur. "Text me later and we can argue about where to go."

With that, Arthur gave him another self-satisfied smile, and when numbers were exchanged and everything settled, from his window, Merlin watched Arthur walk away, down the street toward the tube station.

Maybe reality wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

When Arthur left, he hadn't really wanted to talk to Gaius. What he and Arthur had done together, brilliant as it was, wasn't exactly casual conversation and he thought that perhaps his uncle would give him some kind of horrifyingly embarrassing pep talk about safe sex and condoms and pleasing one's partner, as if he were fourteen years old and not a man who already knew such things.

But like it or not, later that night, when he tiptoed toward the kitchen, thinking to grab a beer and retreat into his room again, he found Gaius sitting at the little table in the living room, his hands around a half-empty teacup, staring off into space.

He looked old - and worried.

Putting on a tired smile, trying not to appear too exhausted for anything more than a nod and a warning to get some sleep, still when Gaius didn't look at him, just sat there, Merlin grew concerned. It didn't look like the prelude to a sex talk, more like something serious was on Gaius's mind.

Sitting down across from him, he said gently, "Gaius, are you alright?"

"Fine, my boy, fine." Then, as if just becoming aware of what he held in his hands, he tried to take a sip of his tea but grimaced at the taste. "What time is it?"

"Going on half past eleven. Have you been here the whole time?" Usually Gaius was in bed by ten.

He hoped Gaius wasn't still up because of Arthur. He'd hate to have caused the old man any more worries; he had enough weight on his shoulders already.

Sending Merlin a sad, almost-smile, he nodded. "Yes, just thinking about some things, trying to figure out what to do next."

"Is it the shop? You seem as busy as ever." Merlin knew that things were tight and the economy wasn't going anywhere, was getting worse in some areas. If Gaius needed help with the bills, Merlin would do whatever it took to make things right. "I can try harder to find more work, if you need me to. My arm is getting better every day."

"You were always a generous one, even as a child." Gaius patted his hand absentmindedly.

But as the old man looked down at his tea cup, swirling the contents, it was clear that he was troubled about something. Merlin said again, "Gaius?"

"You need to be careful, Merlin." Putting down the cup, he leaned forward, frowning at Merlin, looking very serious.

Oh, bloody hell, he _was_ going to talk about sex. Quickly, to stave off any nonsense about bees and birds and condoms, he said, "If this is about Arthur and me in my room, I'm always careful."

Gaius blinked at that, looking as if he had no idea what Merlin was talking about. "No, no, it's not about that. I just think… be careful of the Pendracans. They can be very vindictive when crossed, especially Uther."

Merlin had almost forgotten about Uther in the aftermath of Arthur's promise. The man had said horrible things about Gaius and he had to wonder why, what had happened that would lead someone to lie about murder.

But before he could say anything, Gaius seemed to shake himself free of whatever memories were driving him and said, "How did it go at Gorlois Publishing?"

"I met with Morgana, the head of publication, in her office. She likes my stories and wants me to write a couple of books or maybe more. That's all." He gave a little shrug. The potential was there but he'd still have to write them and anything could happen in the meantime.

But Gaius gave him a bright smile, looking happier than he'd seen him in a while. "That's all? My boy, that's wonderful. A real opportunity for you."

"Yeah, she gave me a bunch of papers to look over. A timeline, I guess for when they need it by, and the first ten pages of the first book and an outline, too, for the others." Between the fantastic sex and Morgana's offer, it really had been a brilliant day. He grinned back. "She said that the market was best for book series."

"I knew you were gifted but this may be the start of something more for you. We should celebrate." Gaius started to get up but Merlin just shook his head.

"I'm pretty knackered. It's been a long day. Tomorrow, I'll go through the papers and figure out what to do next."

Patting his hand in sympathy, Gaius said, "Of course but I can help you if you like. The legalese is hard to understand even in the best of circumstances." For just a moment, he got a faraway look in his eyes and then blinking, he smiled again. "And I've dealt with solicitors before."

Merlin had to wonder if it had anything to do with what Uther had said and the longer he sat there, the more he realized that he didn't know a lot of Gaius's past. They'd been dealing so much with Merlin's problems and keeping their head above water with the shop that other things didn't seem all that important.

But if he was going to be seeing Arthur again, perhaps for more than just a shag or two, Merlin needed to tell Gaius the truth, that Uther Pendracan was spreading lies about him.

Gathering up his courage, he said, "When I saw Arthur at Gorlois Publishing today, he said something that was, well, impossible. I told him off, called him a bloody liar to his face but later, he was pretty adamant about it. Said his father….," Gaius was looking suddenly old, frail, almost as if he knew what Merlin was going to say. "Uther said that you murdered Mrs. Pendracan."

"Ah." His uncle still looked upset, but at least seemed more saddened than guilty. "It was such a long time ago but even now, he can't seem to stop."

"Arthur was pretty clear about what his father said. That our family was trouble and for Arthur to stay away." He settled in, watching Gaius struggle to calm himself. There was a story there, one he'd not heard before and it affected them both, it would seem.

"But I knew that it couldn't be true," Merlin said, hoping for more.

"In a way, Uther was right." Gaius lifted his cup, gestured to the kitchen. "If I'm going to tell this story, I'll need more than tea."

His uncle rarely drank anything stronger, but Merlin knew that behind the soup cans and the pasta was an almost-full bottle of whisky, potent and fierce, waiting for just such a moment. When Gaius started to get up, he pushed him back down. "I'll get it."

Sitting there, staring out toward some far-off thing only he could see, Gaius didn't say anything when Merlin replaced his teacup with a small glass half-full of whisky. He downed it quickly, coughing as he shoved it back for more.

Reluctantly, Merlin poured him another one, this time half of what he'd given Gaius before but his uncle frowned at him. "Not nearly enough," he said.

Worried about how much Gaius was going to drink if left to it, he shook his head, tipped more into the tumbler and pushed it toward him. Gaius drained that, too. "Arthur was four when it happened. I doubt he remembers much, just the loss of his mother. But I can't forget that day."

Staring down into the empty glass, Gaius said, "By then, Uther was a powerful and very rich man. We were friends, had grown up together in a small market town near Wales, Monmouth, a nice enough place but I wanted the excitement of London. So did he, apparently. So when he moved here, too, we kept in touch. Often at odds in politics, economics and just about anything else but still we managed to get along, laughing most of the time at our differences. I think we forgave each other more than we ought to have but still there was a connection there."

Gaius's face was flushed from the drink but he didn't reach for the bottle, just kept playing with the glass, turning it around and around in his hands. "We'd gone to a gala, the opening of a new exhibit at the British Museum. Uther was invited, of course, and his wife. He asked us, Alice and me, to go, too."

"Alice?" He didn't want to stop Gaius but he'd never heard him mention the woman before.

"My wife."

There was a universe of loss in those two words and it didn't help that up to that moment, Merlin hadn't known Gaius was married. "But…."

"I can't… just let me get through this. It's hard enough to talk about it as it is."

His uncle shook his head, gestured for another fill. Merlin poured enough for a few gulps, then when Gaius started to reach for the bottle, clearly not satisfied with that, he tipped in a bit more, glaring as he did. He didn't want the old man to get too pissed. He'd have enough problems getting Gaius to his room at the rate he was going.

Gaius ignored Merlin's worried frown, and drank it all at once. "I was driving. Alice in the passenger side, Uther and Ygraine in the back. Uther and I were arguing, laughing and arguing, about something, I don't remember what."

Frowning, Gaius paused a second, let out a long, shaky breath, and slumping down a bit, said, "It was dark and raining and I… I never saw the lorry. When I woke, I'd broken a couple of ribs, and my leg was lacerated but not bleeding too heavily. A concussion, too, but I didn't know that until later."

Such grief in Gaius's eyes and his hands were trembling even as he held the empty glass. "Uther was cradling Ygraine and begging her to wake up. Alice was already dead, her body… even now I can't say it."

He looked sick, reliving the memories and Merlin listened in horror; it sounded almost like some of his nightmares but this had happened, this had been real and he could only imagine how it must have felt to live it.

"I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe and Uther was screaming at me to do something. As I crawled toward them - it took me so long to get to her, precious seconds and when I did, I could see that her abdomen was torn open. I couldn't stop the bleeding but Uther kept shouting and I tried anyway, using my bare hands and whatever cloth I could find to attempt to stop it. But it was already too late."

Gaius choked back tears. "Ygraine bled to death with Uther holding her."

For a moment, no one said anything. Merlin could see that his uncle was trying desperately not to break down and it didn't help that he'd had so much whisky - or maybe it did.

"He blamed me. I was driving, I was a physician, I couldn't save her. My fault. He tried to have me… arrested but the charges got dropped. The lorry driver was pissed, you see." Closing his eyes, looking as fragile as Merlin had ever seen him, Gaius said, "I didn't care. Alice was dead, I was in pain. For a long time, I… didn't want to live."

Frowning, swaying a bit as he looked down into the empty glass and then up at Merlin, it seemed that he'd finally had enough drink. "Uther hounded me, got me fired. With Alice gone, I… I didn't fight him. But I couldn't find work. His revenge for everything."

His eyes closing a moment, suddenly he seemed very tired, and his words slurred more and more. "I tried to escape for a… long time. Travelled. Found the truth. Uther would have laughed… called me a pathetic fool for believing. But I know better now."

Getting up slowly, carefully, leaning a bit to the side as he stood, he said, "Magic is real. But keep it… secret, Merlin. Uther would… destroy you if… he knew. About your… magic."

Obviously, Gaius was shitfaced enough for them both, unsurprisingly considering how much he'd had to drink, and he needed to sleep it off. With a gentle hand and not a little persuasion, Merlin helped him stumble his way to his room, and made sure he was settled and asleep before putting water and an empty bucket next to his bed, just in case.

He loved his uncle but the old fool was just wrong.

Magic was a myth, only hand-waving and nonsense tricks and nothing more.


	4. Chapter 4

Gaius didn't look much better come morning.

Merlin had been up for a while. When he woke, his room was an absolute mess; he must have been sleep-walking because things he'd carefully put away - on the off chance that Arthur might want to come back to his again, were scattered everywhere and that damnable book of Old English spells lay open on top of his computer, taunting him.

Moving the volume, he opened up his laptop and tried to purge the pain, the desperation of last night's dreams. They'd been of blood, of screams and the glint of rain against stone, swords hacking into flesh and muscle and gut, and in the distance, weeping and the roar of a dragon.

When he was done, his hands hurt from typing but he felt better.

He didn't have time to clean his room again, just flung clothes onto the bed and headed downstairs to open the shop - on time for once, although without Gaius there. His uncle came down a good deal later, obviously still nursing a hangover. It wasn't until he drank one of those disgusting potions he liked to make up, that he could even say hello.

Trying not to laugh at Gaius's grimace of revulsion at the remedy, Merlin let him settle down into his favourite spot before going in the back and making tea for them both.

He didn't want to bring up what had been said last night. Uncertain of what Gaius remembered, not willing to add more grief to his uncle's already frail shoulders, instead Merlin just blathered on about who had come in and what they'd requested. It was typical stuff and an ordinary day.

One thing he certainly did not want to talk about was magic.

Surrounded by things that Gaius said had mysterious powers - crystals, certain herbs that were used to enhance control, antiques found at so-called ley line sites, Merlin listened and nodded and ignored the situation.

It was clear that Gaius believed it, wanted it to be real with everything in him. He hadn't understood before but now Merlin thought it might be because of the death of Gaius's wife and how his whole life had been turned around in a single moment. Sometimes people grasp for things to help change the past and Gaius's past was certainly painful enough to want that.

But to insist that Merlin had magic was just asking for arguments.

Luckily Gaius didn't say much, just smiled at the customers, sold a few things and, although watching Merlin thoughtfully, kept to himself the rest of the day.

In the meantime, Arthur had been sending Merlin increasingly filthy texts with suggestions of positions to try, asking about condom styles for enhanced pleasure and whether Merlin favoured chocolate or berry-flavoured lubes. But when Arthur started talking about macroeconomic policy and how sex was obviously value-added and inflation led to hot, steamy liquidity and there would be explosive growth cycles over and over and over again, Merlin couldn't stop snickering. Obviously, the man was bored out of his mind.

At some point Arthur must have been in a real meeting because the texting stopped but not before they'd argued a bit, flirted even more and decided on getting together later that evening for an examination of goods and services or rather a bit of mutual servicing with each other's goods.

That one had him anticipating just how much servicing he'd be doing and have done to him.

After closing the shop, he took a quick shower, then dressed in clothes easy to remove; he wasn't about to let zippers and tight jeans get in his way of all that gorgeous skin, not this time.

It was too good to last, though. Gaius was waiting for him by the door. Sober, this time.

"Sit down, Merlin. We have to talk." He gestured toward the living room but Merlin shook his head.

"Gaius, I know what you are going to say. I think you said it all last night." He was fidgeting with his jumper, looking at his uncle and then away, wanting to escape before Gaius started in on him again. "I know that you are worried but don't be. Arthur is a good man."

"I thought Uther was, too." Stepping closer, putting one hand on Merlin's arm, his eyes full of apprehension, he said, "You can't let him know about your magic. He'll never understand."

It was too much. He just couldn't deal with this any more. Uncle or not, Gaius had no right.

"Stop saying that!" Jerking out of his reach, taking a step backwards, his body tense with fury, Merlin snapped, "We both know that magic doesn't exist. Stop acting like a fool and accept it."

Gaius didn't even look upset at the anger on Merlin's face and the tone of his voice, only saddened. "I know you were hurt by what happened. I know you still are but your powers are growing and you have to start controlling them before they control you."

"I don't have magic!"

"Denying it won't change the fact," Gaius said, calmly.

Would the man never shut up about it? He knew it was Gaius's life now and kept food on the table but to believe magic was real as he did was just insane. And Merlin should know a few things about insanity; he'd had enough experience with it to last a lifetime.

Merlin also knew arguing with Gaius wasn't going to help. Trying to calm down and be the reasonable one in the room, he said, "Gaius, please stop… just stop. It was hard enough growing up believing in magic and being punished for it and I can't deal with this again."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me." His uncle looked guilty, as if he could have done something to change what had happened. But they both knew that he'd have been as powerless as Hunith had been.

"You have no idea of what I went through." Merlin was choking up, trying not to remember and yet somehow the feelings were all coming back.

"Hunith told me enough," Gaius said gently.

That just infuriated him. Arms waving as his anger rose, he said, "Did she tell you how everyone thought me insisting on being the wizard of old Camelot was adorable at first? A child's dream?"

He remembered the faces, laughing at him, patting him on the head and he couldn't have been more than five or so; then his mum told him to keep it quiet, that it would be dangerous for anyone to know and Merlin took it to heart, his dreams about Arthur and the knights of the Round Table and Albion a secret to all but her and… Will.

"And when I'd learned to shut up about it and hide what I thought was a curse or a gift or whatever the hell it was, I had one friend who believed me, one friend and I…." He wiped his hand across his eyes; he could feel the tears gathering there and he'd be damned if he was going to cry about it in front of Gaius. "And then when Will… died, it was my fault. Showing off. He'd been teasing me and I showed him what I believed I could do but I was delusional, it wasn't real and fuck it, he died because of me."

"Merlin…." Gaius stepped forward, one hand up, looking as if he wanted to comfort him. But Merlin wasn't about to accept anything.

"Have you dealt with psychiatrists? Have you?" In the back of his mind, Merlin thought that perhaps Gaius knew more about psychiatrists than he'd let on but he was too furious to care. "Always digging, digging and everything you say they twist into something else?"

"You were just a child." As if that made any difference.

"I was twelve. Old enough," Merlin snarled back. "At first, they thought I'd done it on purpose, that I made up that ridiculous excuse about magic to get out of it."

The police, the solicitor, the well-meaning bureaucrats, over and over, pushing at him, confusing him, fuck, just to remember it all again was making him sick.

"And when they realized that I wasn't lying, that I really believed… fuck." Head down, face wet, he stood there, his arms wrapped around his chest as if to keep himself from flying apart. He was flying apart. "The medicines made me feel like I wasn't alive, like I was wrapped up in plastic, unable to breathe. Drowning, empty. Relentless faces trying to suck out everything that made me real. And the more I objected, the worse it got, until I didn't know who I was any more."

Merlin took a deep shuddering breath, looked Gaius straight in the eye, trying to gain some kind of calm before there was nothing left of him. "But of course they were right. There is no magic. I know that now."

"Merlin…." Gaius was standing there, looking at him with dismay.

"No! I won't go through that again." Merlin reached for the door, opened it. "You can believe what you want but stop dragging me down with you."

Then before Gaius could say another word, he slammed the door behind him.

* * *

Gaius didn't try and go after him, for which Merlin was utterly grateful. He hated arguing with the old man but there were some things no one was going to make him do and believing in magic was one of them.

He waited by the shop gate, hoping Arthur would show up soon. But even texting him hadn't gotten results and after a while, he decided to walk to the nearest pub and maybe get pissed, rat arsed, shitfaced, tanked. Anything with alcohol attached.

By the time Arthur found him, he was mostly through his second bitter. The man had obviously just come from work, still dressed in a suit, scrumptious and sleek and every inch an advert model. Merlin just wanted to eat him alive or maybe let Arthur try one of those kinky condoms he'd been blathering on about.

As Arthur sat down next to him, he whispered into Merlin's ear, "Starting early, I see."

"Gaius and I had a fight." He shrugged, trying not to ruin what could be a brilliant night. Arthur wasn't to blame for it nor should he miss out on things they'd already arranged just because of a stupid argument.

He pulled back, looking concerned. "About me?"

"Not everything is about you, Arthur." Merlin shook his head, not wanting him to think it was his fault but not wanting to lie, either. "Partly. I'd rather not talk about it. So how was your day? I hear there are explosive cycles about to happen."

"Watch your mouth, Emrys." Arthur's eyes darkened as he sent Merlin a heated gaze. "Or I can watch it for you." When Merlin snorted at that, Arthur gave a chuckle and then turned serious. "So I assume we aren't going back to your flat?"

Merlin shook his head. "Not a good idea right now."

"We can go to mine, then." Leaning forward, hot breath against Merlin's skin, Arthur said slowly, distinctly, "I think you'll like the terrace. There's quite a view and while the railing is transparent glass, if you stand in just the right place…," Merlin's heart began to race, thinking of all the possibilities as Arthur gave him a wicked smile. "I could shag you senseless and no one else would see a thing. Could you keep quiet while I did that? Take you, stuff you so full that you'd see stars and not make a sound?"

Bloody hell, the man was brilliant at painting just the right picture to lighten Merlin's mood. He loved it. "Is that a dare?" When Arthur nodded, raising his eyebrows in challenge, Merlin said, "Only if I can return the favour."

"You're on."

Arthur's flat was amazing. Huge, reception room with enormous windows, a kitchen that any gourmet chef would give his right bollocks for and a bedroom that was sleek, modern and very Arthur in Pendracan red and white. The terrace he'd mentioned was off both the reception room and Arthur's bedroom and the views were indeed incredible.

In the time it had taken to get to Arthur's flat, Merlin's head cleared a bit. He certainly didn't want to forget a moment of this, whatever it was.

They hadn't said much in the taxi, just intertwined fingers and nudged legs and sent glances so hot that Merlin was surprised they hadn't both turned to ash. But once inside, he was a little worried. After all, it was very clear that Arthur was miles above him and he'd never be able to compete against his posh friends.

But Arthur didn't seem to mind, just grabbed his hand and led him out onto the terrace, sharing kisses along the way.

"You've been driving me crazy, you and that mouth of yours." Arthur brushed his thumb across Merlin's lips and then followed it with his tongue, lingering there for a moment before breathing out, "I'm sure I was pretty incoherent at my last meeting and even Leon was looking at me strangely, never mind my father's frowning disappointment but I couldn't stop picturing how you'd look."

Pushing Merlin up against the wall, trapping him with hands on either side of his head, Arthur's leg nudged Merlin's open, grinding into him as he did. Another kiss, hot and hungry as Arthur licked his way into Merlin's mouth and then pulled back a little, biting him and then soothing away the hurt.

Merlin was already hard, his heart pounding so fiercely that he thought they'd be able to hear it all the way back to Dalston. As Arthur dove in again, Merlin was groaning, pleasure slithering up his spine. He grabbed that perfect arse and pulled him closer, if that were possible.

Laughing, Arthur didn't seem to mind, circled his hips a bit, heating things up. "Hell, what you do to me."

"It's what I'm going to do," Merlin whispered into Arthur's mouth.

That earned Merlin another long, intense kiss. "I told you the terrace was perfect."

But Merlin wasn't looking at the terrace. He was looking into Arthur's blue eyes. "As long as it doesn't rain, I'm all yours."

With that, Merlin pulled off his jumper, threw it in the direction of the open door. Arthur wasn't making it easy to do, though, licking at his throat, scraping his teeth across Merlin's too-sensitive ear, muttering filthy suggestions that were frying Merlin's brain even as he tried to get his damn clothes off.

The t-shirt was lying draped over one of Arthur's potted plants when he felt the first cold drop and then another and another. Hell, it was going to rain after all, ruining that brilliant, indecent suggestion of doing it on the terrace.

Arthur muttered something about ignoring it, that it would just enhance the experience but Merlin wasn't too keen on the idea of shivering in the cold when he could shiver in delight instead. And then to add insult to injury, the shower turned into a downpour a few seconds later. So he slipped under Arthur's arm, tugging at him to follow inside. It didn't take much persuasion.

They did leave the door open in the bedroom, though, listening to the rain even as they fell, laughing onto the bed.

With kisses and hands and a great deal of rubbing, they managed to get naked pretty quickly. Merlin was right about how perfect Arthur was, a tight arse that fitted flawlessly into his hands, nipples so responsive to a drag of the tongue and teeth that it made Merlin moan just feeling them tighten under his mouth.

How Arthur could have the sense to find the lube and condoms while panting under Merlin's increasingly frantic fingers was beyond him but he was grateful that someone was paying attention. He was too busy feeling for all the places that had Arthur whimpering.

Apparently, keeping quiet was quite a challenge for Arthur, too, and that made Merlin giddy that he could pull such sounds from the man. No wonder he thought Merlin wouldn't be able to remain silent - and he wanted to do more, to hear Arthur shout and plead and beg for it.

He was beautiful there and Merlin was breathless with want from just looking at him. But he lowered his head again, taking Arthur's mouth, using his tongue to push him further into pleasure. Arthur began to groan more intensely, telling Merlin just how much he was enjoying it.

Feeling him swell, feeling him near orgasm, he pulled off a moment, then Merlin dove back in, kissing him, grinding himself against Arthur's thigh, but he didn't care.

More kisses, just more, he could feel his own hunger rising quickly, Arthur was already quieting, watching him with a heated gaze that said volumes about lust and need and bloody hell, to just get on with it.

And it was working between kisses and ecstasy, Arthur was getting louder, muttering incoherencies, his face twisted in that kind of pleasure/pain grimace that came with spiralling pleasure.

Faster and faster, trying to draw out the moment, reds and heat bleeding into white bliss as he pushed closer, and under him he could hear Arthur's sharp grunt and warmth spilling into Merlin's hand. It seemed to go on forever, listening to Arthur pour out his ecstasy, feeling him go languid as he started to come down from it. Gasps and sweat and the smell of sex tantalizing him.

That was enough to let go. A final thrust and Merlin was caught up, drowning in Arthur's body, breathlessly emptying himself. There were no words to describe the utter beauty of it, light and heat and the endless brilliance that was Arthur, Arthur, Arthur.

When he finally came down, not really caring that there was hot liquid coating both their stomachs, just trying to gather enough breath to think again, he found Arthur smiling at him, all smug satisfaction.

Half-draped over the man, he pushed himself off and to the side, thinking about what they'd just done, how soon it would be before they did it again, worrying about whether Arthur would want to - although the smile was a hint that maybe he would.

As Arthur reached over, gathered tissues to clean up the mess, Merlin tried to get up, thinking that perhaps distance might be in order but Arthur pulled him back down, nosing into his hair. "Stay."

Wanting to melt back into him, still he said, "Are you sure you don't want me to leave? Don't you have meetings in the morning?"

Arthur gave him a filthy look, then smiled slowly, nodding toward the side table. "We still have chocolate lube to try. And I bought a few of those kinky condoms, just in case."

Laughing, Merlin said, "You are the adventurous one. Good thing you never learned the whip properly or I could be in real trouble."

"Oh, Merlin, you are in real trouble." He edged closer, gave Merlin's throat a little nip. "You are very noisy in bed. And I believe the challenge was to be quiet."

Merlin smiled back. "I believe it was."

* * *

After finding out that they liked strawberry lube over chocolate and that the kinky condoms were more hilarious-looking than practical, they finally collapsed, falling asleep, blissful and sated. That he didn't dream while cradled in Arthur's arms was a welcome relief; he'd worried about that but it would seem that his concerns were groundless.

Arthur was all business in the morning, dressing in another suit, making toast and tea and then apologetically hurrying Merlin out the door.

He didn't mind. After all, they were still learning about each other and Arthur's flat was full of things that someone more unscrupulous might nick.

Since Arthur used the Tube to get into London, they rode together, quiet but exchanging heated glances that promised more. When Merlin got off at his stop, he gave Arthur one final smile and then headed back to his flat.

He knew that Gaius would still be upset with him. Hell, he was still upset with the old man and he knew they'd probably have another fight when he got home.

He'd turned off his mobile after Arthur found him at the pub last night and he figured there would be messages from Gaius that he should read, to see just how bad the damage was. But the only thing the old man sent was one voice-mail, asking him to come home, sounding almost contrite as he did.

Knowing that Gaius meant well didn't really help. But he couldn't hold a grudge, not when the old man had been so kind when his mum died and afterwards. He hadn't needed to take Merlin in but he had anyway. He owed Gaius a lot.

His uncle was inside the shop, wrapping up some kind of crystal chime thing, chatting away with the neighbour next door so he didn't interrupt, just went into the back and tidied a bit.

When Gaius came to talk with him later, he was ready to listen at least.

"Merlin, I'm sorry if I pushed you too hard. I know that it's difficult considering your history and I'll try and be more prudent in future."

Sending Gaius a tentative smile, Merlin said, "I know you can't understand what I've been through but I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"It would seem that we are both at fault. I was trying to do what I thought was right but… still, I could have gone about it better. I would ask one thing, though." When Merlin started frowning again, suspicious of what he might say, Gaius held up his hand. "No, not that you accept the reality of magic. It's obvious my arguing with you will do no good but be cautious of Arthur. He's a Pendracan and my experiences with them have not been good. Learn from my mistakes."

Much as he would love to defend Arthur, fiercely and without doubt, he knew that Gaius was right. If he'd had his life ruined by Uther's vengeance, then he'd have felt the need to be more cautious, too.

"Arthur is… I'm not sure if he's anything like his father but I don't want him knowing about my past anyway, at least not yet." He nodded, saying, "So yeah, I'll be careful."

Gaius smiled at that, the tension in his face gone. "Good. Now go clean up. I have some errands for you to run and customers to attend to."

And that, thankfully, was that.

Arthur texted him later, regrets and such, but he'd be working far into the evening and couldn't get away. But they made plans for the following night.

It was okay. He still needed to clean up his room; it looked like a windstorm had hit it. So even sore from the last night, a wonderful, can-still-feel-the-burn kind of sore, he dove in, putting things away as best he could. Oddly, again, there were several items that weren't his: crystals, a ratty red neckerchief that kept showing up no matter how many times he'd tossed it away, and of course, that bloody old book.

Gaius came by later to see what he was doing and he shoved the volume into his uncle's hands. "Is this yours? Because it isn't mine and I keep tripping over it."

"Ah, I've been looking for it. It's quite valuable, parchment and leather and the illustrations are done in gold and ancient inks. A magic book full of spells, quite powerful ones, too." Looking at Merlin with a gleam that didn't bode well, he said, "It was in your room?"

"I didn't take it on purpose, if that's what you are thinking. It just… shows up."

When Gaius's eyebrows began to rise, looking as if he was about to deliver another lecture about magic, Merlin said sharply, "Don't start."

"Of course." Letting out a long, put-upon sigh, Gaius nodded. "When you are ready, supper is on the table."

* * *

_An unearthly shriek and as he pushed Arthur back, refusing to let his prince sacrifice himself, Merlin jumped up, ran towards the ghostly horror. The utter cold of the Dorocha as it merged with him and then out again, and he couldn't move, his lungs made of ice and he knew if he breathed, he'd shatter. In some distance place, he could hear Arthur calling out to him and he wanted to go to him, ached to find him again, protect him as he was always meant to do. But he was frozen, his face covered with ice, the destiny he believed in beyond his reach. It couldn't be the end, it couldn't and…._

When Merlin woke up, he wanted to punch something. He hated being so haunted every night and it left him frustrated and feeling all too helpless. Around him, his room was a wreck - again. He didn't know why he bothered cleaning any more. It was the same every night.

And then ignoring the mess, the old book and the crystals and everything else, pulling out his computer, trying to drain away the darkness, he began to type.

Even Arthur noticed that he was looking tired. They'd been shagging for a week, not talking much about their other lives, concentrating on the here and now, on making each other pant and whine and bring ecstasy into Arthur's eyes.

The man had a giving nature, once he got past the prat attitude and sometimes unsympathetic ignorance about how the world really worked - a lot like the Arthur of his dreams.

Of course, he wanted to lie back, drift off but Arthur threw a flannel at him. It landed right over his face, and as he picked it up and began to wipe himself off, he could see Arthur grinning; cheeky bugger probably did it on purpose. But he didn't mind. He liked this playful side of his dare-he-say-it boyfriend.

It was comfortable and exciting and somehow right. He could see them together, more than just for shags, if he'd let it. But his past was worrying him; he wasn't sure how Arthur would take to having a nutter around and he knew that Uther would never allow it if he knew.

"Stop thinking so hard. It's making my head hurt just watching you." Arthur relaxed against him, nosing his ear, warm breath tantalizing him.

"And you never think at all, do you?"

"Ummm, sometimes I do." Arthur smiled at that, then sobered. "I read your short stories. I can see why Morgana wants books out of you." A brush of lips against Merlin's skin, hands playing with chest hair, the slow circle of a thumb across his already over-sensitive nipple, Arthur certainly knew how to tease. His voice lowered, going all husky as he said, "All that talk about manservants and coins and dying for each other. Makes me want a manservant of my own… in case my sword needs polishing."

That got a laugh. Sometimes Arthur was just ridiculous. "Worst pick-up line ever." Merlin let his grin turn filthy. "So you get off on servants polishing things?"

"Only if it's you." Pushing himself up on one elbow, looking as if he was trying to be serious and failing miserably, Arthur said, "I'm sure you'd be an excellent manservant. Seeing to my needs, obeying my every command, although I must admit that your cleaning skills leave much to be desired."

'Hey!" Merlin just rolled his eyes. "You're worse than Gaius. He's always on about my room."

"Well, sometimes my room ends up a disaster, too, when you are here. But I can forgive almost anything for that mouth of yours." His eyes flicked down to Merlin's groin and then back again. "I could have a livery made for you, a cape, a feathered hat. You'd look perfect in them."

"I'd look like an idiot."

"Same thing." Leaning forward, Arthur whispered into Merlin's ear, "Of course, I'd expect you to be naked underneath. So I could bend you over and have my wicked way with you."

"I don't think I need livery for that, do you?"

"Might be fun, watching the feathers bounce around as I fuck you senseless." Then still on his side, one hand cradling his head, the other splayed across Merlin's chest, he abandoned the game. "Seriously, though, the stories are very good. An interesting take on the Arthurian legend. Do you write them because of your name and the whole Merlin magic connection? Being the most powerful wizard of all time? Well except for Harry Potter, of course."

He didn't want Arthur to see how upset talking about magic was making him, even though with Arthur's hand over his heart, he must have felt it racing. Trying desperately to remain calm, he said, "No… I don't know. They just come to me."

Shaking Arthur off, Merlin sat up and began looking for his clothes. It was late and he'd have to catch the Tube back to Dalston before long. A good excuse for running away if ever there was one.

He spied one sock in the corner and reached for it, even as Arthur said, "Funny thing is that you write about magic and there are tons of things in Gaius's shop dealing with it. I would have thought you'd have learned magic tricks at least." His voice was teasing but there were questions behind it. "You know, to entertain me in between shags."

"Yeah, well…." Merlin shoved his briefs on and the sock he'd retrieved. The other one was nowhere in sight. Shirt missing too, but his jeans were draped over the chair.

"Admittedly, you are very entertaining all on your own." At this point, Arthur would normally have got the hint but he just kept blathering on.

"That's all that matters," Merlin said, more sharply than he would have liked.

"And now that I've used the M word, you are running away again." Arthur was sitting up, too, putting on a t-shirt and nothing else, but he didn't look ridiculous in it, just bloody gorgeous. "Why? Why do you tense up every time I mention magic? And don't tell me that you don't because I see it, the way your face twists and your body hunches up like that."

This was not a conversation he was going to have, not without a lot of alcohol. He found the other sock, shoved it on his foot and reached for his jeans. His mind racing as he tried to come up with some reasonable explanation, all he could think of was Arthur finding out about his time in the wards and the drugs and… he didn't want to have to think about it again.

"I got picked on a lot as a kid. So talking about magic doesn't have good memories for me." At least the half-truth was better than nothing at all.

Arthur seemed to accept that, reached out as Merlin tried to go past and pulled him back to sit on the bed. "Stop, Merlin, stop." One hand still gripping his arm, Arthur said, "Look, I know that sometimes being a kid is really hard. But you can talk to me about it, you know. I've had my own problems growing up."

Merlin let out a long, breath, trying to calm the fear that had set in. On one level, he understood what Arthur was saying but he'd been so confused over the years that his reaction was now completely uncontrolled, instinctual. He wanted their relationship to work and the magic was standing in the way and he didn't know how to break the barrier without destroying everything.

Arthur must have taken his silence for surrender. "It was hard for me, too. Not in the same way but with my mum gone, my father wasn't home most of the time and when he was… well, let's just say I was not noticed much. Or when I was, it was always disapproval. Nothing I did was ever right."

"I'm sorry." Merlin wasn't sure why but it seemed to placate Arthur.

"I'm not telling you this for sympathy but just so you know that you can trust me with whatever it is bothering you."

"Then can you trust me enough to let me tell you in my own time?"

Arthur looked disappointed but nodded, letting go of his arm. Merlin sent him a relieved smile, one meant to reassure and it seemed to work.

For a moment, neither of them said anything, just sat there on the bed side by side. Then, knowing that Arthur had shown him something of the loneliness of his childhood, Merlin wanted to give him something back, of comfort and caring, of at least talking about his mum. "It must have been hard growing up that way. Do you remember your mum at all?"

Arthur shook his head, looking out into the distance beyond the darkened window. "Not much. Just feelings, a hand ruffling my hair, perfume, soft words, love."

"My mum died when I was sixteen. It was very hard what with things. At least Gaius took me in. Otherwise, I don't know what I'd have done." He shrugged, pushing away the memories of that difficult time.

Nodding, Arthur seemed to understand that whatever Merlin wasn't telling him, it was not the right time to know. Instead, he said, "My father was on again about Gaius last night." He rubbed his eyes, shoulders slumping. "From what I've seen of him, I can't believe Gaius would do such a thing but now I don't know what to think."

At least he could tell Arthur the truth about his mother's death. "Gaius said it was an accident. He was driving them all home and a lorry driver hit the car. He tried to save your mum but it was already too late. Your father blamed Gaius anyway." Arthur sat there, frowning at him but he was at least still listening. "Your father ruined his career, drove him out of the country. Gaius's wife died in the same accident but it didn't seem to matter to Uther." He bowed his head, then turning to Arthur, said, "I'm sorry. I know he's your father but…."

Arthur shook his head. "I wouldn't put it past him. I love my father but once he gets an idea in his head, he can be pretty ruthless."

He wanted to soothe him somehow but nothing seemed appropriate. So instead he just sat there, his hand over Arthur's. "I am sorry."

"I'm sorry, too."


	5. Chapter 5

After that, Arthur stopped goading him about magic. Things got smoother, they began to go out on proper dates and it wasn't just sex that kept Merlin longing to see him again. It was Arthur, the real Arthur, not just the one conjured up in his dreams but flesh and blood, a man who could be a prat, a jokester and yet somehow gentle, who often thought of others first and when confronted with his generosity, would deny it vigorously. A good heart and true.

Merlin heard from some of the neighbours that Valiant had disappeared, possibly because of some clash with police or maybe he'd angered someone with more power than fists and fury. Whatever the case, he relaxed, began to go outside more, run errands in near darkness rather than only in bright daylight and think less about getting beaten up and more of the freedom to go where he wanted and see whom he wanted to see.

So when Arthur wanted to go back to the club, he didn't say no.

Of course, the place was packed.

That didn't keep him from being jittery, though, especially once they got inside. The last time he'd been there, he'd nearly got killed. But even though he kept telling himself to calm down, that Valiant wasn't there and he was going to relax and have a good time dancing with Arthur, his instincts were screaming at him to leave before it was too late.

It didn't help that Arthur seemed to be wary, too, constantly looking around, dancing yes but aware of everyone around him.

It was all Merlin's fault. The Arthur he'd seen weeks ago at the club had been carefree, dancing and laughing and with friends he obviously cared about; and now he was stuck with a nutter, someone with too much baggage and no relief in sight. It really wasn't fair to Arthur.

That Arthur didn't know how damaged Merlin was didn't help the situation either, just made him feel even more guilt-ridden about it.

But he tried to relax for Arthur's sake, to smile, to dance under the fluoros, jump to music so fierce it felt as if he were drowning in techno-beat, enjoy the colours and the flash and the laughing crowds. But no matter how much Arthur pressed him to let go, have some fun, get pissed, he didn't drink; he wanted his wits about him, just in case.

As the night wore on, with each song, he seemed to get more and more wound up, not less, felt as if he was being watched, judged, with the executioner's block waiting for him. Arthur kept looking at him with anxious eyes. Merlin tried to smile back, shrug off the worry. But the crowd's excitement, normally energizing, instead pressed into his chest, laughter jolting harsh against his skin, the noise pushing chaos into his blood.

He couldn't breathe.

Finally, he wasn't able to stand it any more. He motioned to Arthur that he needed air and for a moment, resentment clouded Arthur's eyes. But then he nodded, waved Merlin on, followed in his wake.

Outside, when they could finally hear again, Arthur said sharply, "What is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry. I… I can't." Merlin took a long, deep breath, trying to calm down. Even in the warm air, his hands were shaking. "It's just not… I keep thinking Valiant is here, waiting for me."

"Merlin, he's gone. No one has seen him in weeks. Now, come back in and for fuck's sake, have a drink." There it was, the annoyance. The first real crack in the little world they'd built and it would only get worse, the more Arthur knew about him.

"I have to go home." When Arthur started forward, looking like he was going to argue, Merlin said, "I'll be alright. You stay here and have some fun and I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"But I don't think…." Arthur seemed genuinely upset. Of course he would be, what with Merlin being such a fool about it.

"Arthur, you've been looking forward to this all week and I don't want to ruin it for you. My flat's not far." He was trying to be a good boyfriend, let Arthur have a bit of fun. He didn't want to interfere with Arthur's clubbing, not if it made him unhappy. "Like you said, Valiant is gone so I'll be fine walking home."

"Merlin, you really are an idiot." Arthur crowded him, put his arm around Merlin's shoulder and pulled him close. "You need to relax." But when Merlin started to draw away, protesting, Arthur said, "Since clubbing is out, how about I come back with you and help you with that relaxing bit? I have that new lube. Claims to enhance pleasure. We could find out?"

"I don't want to be, you know, a bother."

Nuzzling into Merlin's neck, his lips wet against his skin, Arthur said, "Of course, you are a bother. You bother me all the time."

"Oh." Hell, the man was not playing fair but Merlin didn't mind. "Okay. I even cleaned my room for once."

Arthur let go, gave him a look of astonished disbelief, raising his palms skyward as if in supplication. "And the heavens rejoiced."

"Look, you twat, I'll have you know that I can keep a room clean if I have to," Merlin said, trying not to roll his eyes as he did. Then tugging on Arthur's sleeve, he started to hurry down the street. "Just because I don't have a cleaning lady coming in twice a week…."

"Okay, okay, I'll concede the cleaning. I just hope there are sheets on your bed because I plan on making a mess." Catching up, he put his arm around Merlin's neck and as they walked, whispered into his ear, "All over you."

Merlin sent him back a grin. "Then let's hurry!"

* * *

Much as he would have liked to have blamed Arthur and his new lube for their quick walk home, the fact was that Merlin was feeling more and more like there was something wrong, doom just over the horizon and he wasn't ready for it.

Jittery, as they approached the shop, Merlin kept looking into the shadows, the alleys and open stairways, even the parked cars lining the street. He'd already been through a bad experience by not paying attention and he'd be damned if that was going to happen again.

But Valiant and his bloody mates were not around.

It was quiet on the street. A couple of cars drove past and as he looked through the security gate into Gaius's shop, he thought he saw light inside and shadows moving. But it was just the blinding glare of headlights flowing across the glass. Behind the window display, the room was black as pitch.

Arthur wasn't paying attention, kept tugging at Merlin, obviously eager to find out just how messy they could make Merlin's room. Shaking off his spiralling dread, he stumbled up the stairs, Arthur in close pursuit.

Not wanting to wake Gaius, he kept telling Arthur to be quiet, to tread softly but as soon as he opened the door, he knew something was wrong.

Chairs tipped over, papers everywhere, and the kitchen was in a shambles, food on the floor, broken glass and sludge seeping free of jars discarded in haste. Scents of milk, oils, and last night's dinner mixed with the sour smell of rubbish.

Around the corner, a sound of pain, and something clattered. In an instant, Merlin was running back there, shouting for Gaius, not caring that his cries would alert whoever might be lying in wait in the flat. Arthur was hard on his heels.

Sitting on the floor, the old man was groaning, holding his head in his hands. There was a trickle of blood down his temple and seeping into his shirt and it looked so bright against the shroud-white skin that Merlin couldn't breathe. He'd seen that type of wound before; comfrey would stop the bleeding and honey for infection but he didn't know how he knew that and there wasn't time to figure it out.

Instead, Merlin flung himself down beside him, saying, "Gaius, Gaius, are you alright? Who did this?"

Behind him, he could hear Arthur rummaging around and then he was kneeling next to Gaius, a cloth in his hand pressed to the old man's wound. In his other hand was his mobile, talking to someone, giving them the address.

"He… they… they took the keys. They… wanted money. Hit me when I didn't have enough." His voice was thready and Merlin was worried he was going into shock.

"Who hit you? Where are you hurt?" Merlin was frantic, worried and panicking a bit. And beneath that panic, fury was already pushing him to do something, find whoever did this and make sure they never did it again. But he ignored it for now. Gaius had to be his first priority.

"Head, just my head… but Merlin, don't go. They… don't go." He was holding Merlin's arm, pulling at him. "Let them have it. It's too… dangerous."

Beside him, Arthur said, "I've called the police and an ambulance. They should be here soon."

"At this time of night? Maybe where you live but here, no, not for a while yet." But as he said it, he wasn't looking at Arthur but Gaius, peering into his eyes, to see if he had concussion.

His uncle seemed okay, just shaken up. The trickle of blood had already stopped but there would be a spectacular bruise come morning. Still, as Gaius tried to struggle to his feet, Merlin shook his head, cleared off the mess on the bed and both of them helped Gaius up into it. Merlin put pillows under his feet just in case.

"Who was it, Gaius?" Merlin wasn't going to let them get away with it, whoever they were. To attack an old man like this was despicable, and what's worse, they must have waited for Merlin to leave before breaking in. Old and vulnerable, a perfect target.

"Don't. There are three of them and they hate you already. They might…." Gaius was grabbing onto his hand, shaking it, trying to get him to pay attention, growing more frantic as Merlin ignored him. "Don't go down there."

But he wasn't listening. Instead, he was remembering other times, other places, other beatings. There was only one person that hated him that much.

"Valiant, then and his followers," Merlin spat out, anger rising fast. He couldn't let this go, not this time. He got to his feet, turned to Arthur. "I have to end this, one way or another."

Shaking his head, Arthur said, "Merlin, don't be ridiculous. Let the police handle it."

"And wait for them to kill Gaius next time? Or me?" Merlin was already looking around, seeing what kind of weapon he could use against them. He knew he'd only get one chance; each of them was too big and too strong for him and with three, it would be near impossible. He'd have to be sneaky, get them from behind somehow. "Stay with Gaius. I'll take care of this."

"Merlin, this is insane. If you go after them, it will be you in the courts, not them, even if you survive - which isn't likely. Let the police… Merlin!"

Ignoring Arthur, Merlin grabbed one of Gaius's many artefacts, a carved staff with a large blue crystal on one end. Gaius claimed it had great power but Merlin didn't believe all that magical nonsense. It was heavy and solidly built and the stone gave it extra weight, perfect for cracking open heads if needs be.

Right behind him, Arthur was jabbering at him the whole time, trying to get him to reconsider. If he'd been in his right mind, he'd probably have listened. But he wasn't. Instead he could only think that Gaius might die next time and he would be helpless to stop it.

He almost didn't hear the door open. But Dagr wasn't being quiet, shouting down the stairs, "I'll wait for that creep, Emrys, and then we'll have some fun, right, Ebor?"

There was some muffled reply but Dagr just laughed and started walking through the kitchen towards Gaius's room. He didn't see Merlin until it was too late. As he shoved the staff-head into Dagr's chest, his look of surprise was almost comical, if the situation hadn't been so dire. He went down with a scream, clutching his torso, choking on blood as he scrambled backwards, away from Merlin.

For a large man, he could move absurdly fast. As Merlin took another swing at him, Arthur shouting in his ear, he only managed to clip the man's arm but it was a solid crack and the arm looked broken when Merlin stepped back.

But as he started in again, Arthur stopped him. "Don't. You'll kill him."

There was an echo of horses in the distance and the blue sky of a summer's day. Arthur's head was crowned in sunlight and he wore Pendragon red and armour, a sword in his hand. The beginnings of another vision but he shook it off. He couldn't go under, not now, not when Gaius's life was at stake and perhaps Arthur's, too.

The staff felt right in his hands, the blue crystal glowing just a bit, a trick of the light but Merlin nodded. Arthur was right. Killing him would only make things worse and he wasn't a killer, not in this lifetime.

It didn't matter, though. As Dagr lurched away, Ebor was already at the door, shouting for him. Dagr screamed something, staggering through the doorway and onto the landing by the sounds of it, then stumbled down the stairs.

But like the idiot he was, instead of going and getting Valiant to press his advantage, Ebor ran toward Merlin. He was smarter than Dagr, though, a street-fighter, because as Merlin went for another blow, Ebor ducked, yanking the staff out of Merlin's hands.

There wasn't much choice. As Ebor started to bring the staff down, Merlin jumped at him, kicking and clawing, Arthur following close and getting in a solid punch as Ebor staggered back. In the struggle, the staff rolled away but Ebor didn't seem to care. His fists swinging, he hit Merlin in the face, near where he'd broken it weeks ago and pain flared impossibly bright. A kick into his shin, another sharp stab of agony and he was down.

Warrior-fierce, Arthur gave a roar, pushed Ebor back and back, grabbing a broken chair and hurling it at him, a book, a heavy paperweight, anything he could get his hands on and it was working. The bloody bastard was giving ground, moving out onto the landing and down the back. But something must have happened. Even in the distance, he could hear Arthur's grunt of pain and the sound of something heavy falling down onto the fire escape's metal grating.

Forcing himself up, grabbing the staff and using it as a crutch, Merlin hobbled as fast as he could to see if Arthur was alright.

There was blood running from his nose and he looked battle weary but at least he was doing better than Ebor who lay sprawled unmoving on the ground at the bottom of the fire escape.

"Is he dead?" Merlin said, relieved and yet horrified that he could feel that way. What kind of person would be happy in a person's death, even if that someone was scum? The idea that he could be troubled him more than he could say.

Arthur just looked exhausted, his eyes anxious, and he kept moving his fingers on one hand as if they hurt. "Don't think so. Unconscious for certain, though. Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Where do you think Valiant is?"

Looking over the railing at Ebor, Arthur shook his head. "If he's smart, he'll run as far away as he possibly can." Then he started down the stairs, saying, "The ambulance will be here soon. Fucking hell, what will my father say?"

"Arthur, don't. He might still be down there."

Merlin started after him, staff in hand, looking into the shadows, seeing danger in every movement; sounds seemed to expand and he was hyperaware of paper lifting in the breeze, a terrified mouse squealing for help, a dog barking, cars racing in the distance. That feeling of dread hadn't gone away, began to grow again, choking him. He could hardly breathe for the worry.

Reaching the ground, Arthur started to lean down, hand reaching for Ebor's pulse. Merlin could see a slow stripe of muted light move along the cement and then back again and for a moment he didn't know what it was. Then he realized that it was the back door of the shop, reflecting the far-off street light onto the pavement, that it was swinging open, that Arthur was vulnerable.

"Arthur!"

Valiant was almost on him, an ornate dagger from the shop in his hand. Merlin's head was shrilling danger, horror upon horror, and he knew he wouldn't be in time and he couldn't let it happen, couldn't let Arthur die. And that sound in his head kept shrieking up and up.

Without thought, without reflection or planning or anything but saving Arthur, he lifted the staff and words began to pour from his mouth, nonsense words. "_Swilte__.__Gebierge, Arturus!__"_

A blue light streaked downward, barely missing Valiant but the bastard was flung back, lifted high and then when he came down again, he hit the pavement with a dull thud, skidded a few feet back toward Gaius's shop. The dagger clattered nearby.

Arthur stared up at him, mouth open, looking as shocked as Merlin felt.

But there wasn't time to explain. Merlin was already scrambling down the metal stairway, sounds rattling in his head and he couldn't stand all the noise, the way his mind kept screaming '_magic'_ and _'can't be'_ and _'no'_, Arthur asking impossible questions, the chaos of his universe crashing against the careful constructs he'd built.

It didn't matter, though. He'd figure it out later when he was sane again. Instead, bypassing Arthur, he followed Valiant into the shop, past the potion prep area, the litter of new acquisitions, and the displays of crystals and artefacts, candles and carved shields and painted masks, the collection of magic from around the world.

Merlin could hear Valiant crashing into something, likely the case near the front door. There was an alcove there, perfect for hiding and as he slowly moved toward it, he could see the bastard's foot limned in streetlight.

The crystal in the staff was vibrating or maybe it was his hand trembling. His mind was still staggering under the buzz of something, fear or astonishment or - every time it came back to the answer, he shied away - that it was magic trying to get out. But it couldn't be.

Magic wasn't real.

Valiant must have sensed a momentary advantage, swung out one of the antique swords Gaius kept for decoration. He missed by a hairs-breadth. Merlin stumbled back, brought up the staff again, swinging it toward the man, but Valiant was a street fighter, knew how to take advantage of the situation.

Blocking the staff, using the sword to drive Merlin back toward one of the glass cabinets, he kicked out. Merlin's leg was suddenly on fire, and as he curled down, Valiant raised his arms to strike.

Instinct was the only thing that saved him.

Swinging the staff upward, Merlin hit Valiant's shoulder just as the fucker brought the blade down, and pushed the sword aside. Not enough, though. The blunted edge of it struck a glancing blow across Merlin's head, cutting into his cheek and ear, pounding panic into his mind. Behind him, glass shattered.

Dropping to one knee, still holding the staff but barely, Merlin shook his head, trying to think. But the pain was increasing and his mind was muzzy. There was a flicker of stone floors and red capes and Arthur looking down at him, worried and then the shop was there again and dark shadows.

In the distance, he could hear Valiant laughing, and there was the glint of something swinging toward Merlin's neck. He didn't know what to do, other than cringe down, cover his head with his arms and wait for agony.

Wind began to pick up, whistling under the door, rattling the glass. On the floor beside him, the blue crystal, too, was glowing again, ethereal light painting the area where he was crouching in blues and blacks.

Something flew by, the sound of a dull thud and then Valiant was shouting, "What the fuck?" Startled, as Merlin looked up, there was blood on Valiant's face and he began to stumble back, looking at Merlin with growing terror. "What the… fuck?"

Arthur was suddenly there, too, wielding an ancient sword, bright as Excalibur, in his hand. Valiant seemed to realize that Arthur was coming toward him and he swept the weapon side to side, obviously trying to block Arthur's blows and escape while he still could.

Behind Merlin, the shop was growing noisier as other things began to lift and then circle Valiant, first bits of paper and then other things, bundles of sharp herbs, ornate jewellery, jagged crystals.

Cursing, Valiant kept backing up, trying to get away but Arthur was there, too, and it was only making the bully more frantic. Finally abandoning all pretence, he threw the sword at Arthur and when he ducked, Valiant vaulted over the counter, slid past one of the cabinets and began grabbing things at random, anything heavy enough to do damage, and throwing them at Merlin, especially Merlin.

Arthur tried to block the onslaught, using only his body and a wooden mask as shield. But as Merlin watched, horrified, Valiant got past his defences. Slipping on broken glass, Arthur was thrown off-balance for a moment and Valiant threw first a paperweight and then a large quartz cluster the size of Merlin's fist, clipping Arthur across temple and chest. Red blossomed in bright golden hair as he slid to the floor.

"Arthur!"

In the blink of an eye, wailing, cyclonic green and black, the wind was churning darkness, growing stronger, ever stronger. A whirlwind of things rose: rocks and masks and antique knives, ornate candlesticks. Circling, the storm howled in the darkened shop.

Valiant threw up his hands, screamed as the gale overtook him, lifted him up and threw him across the room, crashing into another case. Sounds of broken glass shattered the night and then there was a shrill of high, pure agony.

A car must have gone past, its headlights piercing the gloom. For a moment, Valiant was lined in brilliance. Merlin could see a dozen cuts, deep and long, slicing the bully's skin and he was holding in his gut, his hands covered in red, his face twisted in pain. Then as shadows fell again, Valiant ran out of the shop, seemingly terrified, making little grunting noises as he fled. A trail of blood followed him out the door.

And it wasn't until the door slammed shut that Merlin knelt next to Arthur, trying to see if he was alright. Behind him, the wind was slowly dying, still churning dust and debris into the air but quieting with every passing moment. It grew darker, too, as the soft light of the staff's crystal winked out.

Arthur looked up at him, blinking, stunned. Then he scurried away, like some terrified animal, jerking back as Merlin reached for him.

It was the same. It was happening all over again and Merlin couldn't stand it. He'd die first.

"Please don't… please Arthur, it will be alright." And as if to reassure himself that Arthur was really frightened by Valiant and not Merlin's insanity, he said, "Valiant and his friends are gone and I don't think they're coming back. Arthur, please, Arthur? It's alright."

There was dead silence for a moment.

Then Arthur said, heart-wrenching, cruel, terrifyingly calm, "What are you?"

Only one thing to say. "Magic."

Merlin knew they would never be the same again.

* * *

There was no sign of Valiant, Ebor or Dagr - which was a relief.

Arthur stayed long enough to make sure they were all looked over by the emergency team and proclaimed well enough to wait until morning to see the doctor. The police took down a much abbreviated statement, Arthur leaving out any mention of magic or Merlin's part in it. The constable promised he'd return once they had some leads on the three attackers. Arthur was composed throughout the whole mess, doing the right things and saying the right things to placate him.

But when the constable had gone, Gaius resting, and just the two of them were left to face each other, Arthur gathered up his mobile and the few things he'd dropped in the attack and started for the door.

Merlin tried to talk to him, reaching out to him but Arthur flinched away from the touch, saying, "Don't. Just don't." With that, he was gone.

The flat never felt so empty.

* * *

After that, Merlin didn't remember much. Gaius got better, Merlin's injuries healed, too, but he walked around in a numbed daze - feeling so much like his time in the wards, suffocated by drugs and despair, that sometimes he wanted to curl up and let the darkness take him.

He didn't work on his book or anything else that Morgana had requested. Yes, the nightmares were still with him, and in the deep shadows of midnight or early dawn, he'd pour out his misery into his computer but the desolation was ever-present and it was almost as if the writing wasn't helping at all, merely crystallizing his own personal hell into tangible form.

Sometimes he'd print out the pages and then tear them up one at a time, trying to rid himself of the haunting memories. It never worked.

Now, at least, Merlin knew that he'd been deluding himself for years, that the scars of his early life, of Will's death and everything that followed, only covered up the corrupt toxin of his magical abilities. He'd been cursed and he would never be able to escape.

And, much as he fought it, as the magic grew stronger, he'd lie in bed, staring up at the circle of things hovering over his head, heavy candlesticks and rocks and even that bloody spell book, and wonder where it had all gone wrong.

Sometimes he'd even let them fall, craving the pain that followed. At least then he knew he was alive.

Gaius tried to talk to him. Spell book in hand, he'd say something ridiculous about learning to control his magic, how it was a gift and one not to be squandered. But Merlin would just turn aside, staring out the window into a reality that wasn't his and never would be.

And so it went on, an endless cycle of argument and silence. Merlin grew thinner, said less even as his magic grew wilder. There was an incident with the electric hob, flame under the kettle and dangerous. Gaius grew annoyed and then worried when things flew around the room and into walls or displays or his precious antiques. There were mysterious fogs and floating balls of light and flickering shadows; even the staff he'd used against Valiant sometimes hummed and turned bright blue and sparked.

Finally Gaius yelled at him. Fierce and strong, he told him to accept that this was his new life and just get on with it. But when Merlin nodded and went into his room and stared out into the fading light, in the distance, he could hear the door slam and footsteps fading on the stairs and it grew an empty kind of quiet.

When Gaius returned, Merlin didn't pay attention. There was another voice in the entryway; it sounded familiar but it was too much trouble to think about. Papers in his hands, the printed form of last night's dreams or perhaps they were memories of long ago or something else entirely, and Merlin was trying again to purge it, starting to tear the sheets into smaller and smaller pieces when his door opened.

"Merlin…?"

He didn't want to look; he didn't want to find out if he was dreaming again. But the voice, Arthur's voice, sounded so real.

A few moments of silence, but when he gathered courage enough to look up, Arthur was standing there after all.

"Why are you here?"

"Gaius came to see me. He explained a few things." Arthur looked out toward Gaius's room, then closed the door, leaving the two of them alone.

"Oh, so now you are here, what, because you think a bit of pity will help me over this?" The idea of Arthur feeling like that tore at Merlin. It was bad enough that Arthur thought him a monster but feeling sorry for him, like he was some kind of wounded animal to be comforted with a few scraps of attention, was another matter. "Think again. I've tried to get rid of the magic. Denied it, fooled even myself for a time. And it won't go away. It will never go away."

Looking almost guilty, Arthur said, "Merlin, I know I haven't helped."

That was the understatement of the year.

It should have made him furious but instead, all he felt was grief. "Yeah."

"But Gaius wasn't the reason I came back." Arthur took a step forward, carefully watching him as he did.

Tossing aside the printouts in his hands, scattering paper across the floor, he stood up, watching Arthur fidget under his gaze. Frowning, voice rising as he said, "What then? Obligation? Fear that I might come after you like I did Valiant? Or maybe you think I gave you some kind of magic love potion, that you couldn't possibly want me without it and now you need the antidote?"

"Merlin, no."

Arthur looked as if he'd been struck, then his face flushed when Merlin said, "I'm sure Gaius will be glad to sell you a remedy. Now go away."

"I would never think that." Arthur grabbed his arm, shook him a bit.

But Merlin wasn't having any of it. He jerked away, his voice scathing as he said, "And why not? Last time you were here, you said, _'What are you?' _like I was some kind of monster."

"I just… I didn't know what to think. I knew something was up about the magic but I thought maybe you were just ashamed about Gaius's business, or like you said, upset about your name and getting picked on a lot as a kid." Arthur started to reach for him again and then pulled his hand back when Merlin sent him a warning scowl. "I never thought you had… well, magical powers. Who would? That's for fantasy books and kid's shows, not real life."

So it was denial and trying to get Merlin pacified enough for Arthur to feel less guilty about what he'd done and that only made things worse.

"Well, surprise. It is real. And apparently, I am not even human enough to be around."

Arthur's face turned an unlovely shade of red. "You are an idiot if you think that." He sounded almost sincere and it caught Merlin by surprise.

More gently, weary and just wanting this all to be done so he could sink back into silence, he said, "Why are you here?"

"Gaius is right. You have to learn to control it or it will eat you alive."

Arthur stepped closer, carefully touching Merlin's arm again, not forcefully but as if he were worried Merlin would shatter under his hand.

Too weary to move away, wanting him close and hating himself for it, Merlin said, "So what if it does? Why should you care? I'm just some kind of weird magical thing that you shagged. Give it a few months and I will be nothing but a vague memory." Then a chilling thought crossed his mind and he stiffened, looked at Arthur with growing fear. "Or are you going to report me? Is this…? I can't go back. I won't."

Arthur looked horrified. "Merlin, no. I'm not telling anyone. Not anyone." His grip tightened and as he spoke, slowly gathered him into his arms. "Let me help you. Let Gaius help you. Merlin, please, I don't know what I'd do if you gave up."

It felt so good, the tender warmth of him, the remembered smells of Arthur's favourite tea and the faint remnant of cologne clinging to him and Arthur's own scent. One hand against his cheek and he leaned into it, wanting it and him so desperately, treasured hands pulling him close. He wanted to believe that it was real, that this time it would be alright.

Head against Arthur's shoulder, Merlin whispered, "I don't… I don't know what to do. Last time, Will died and I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you."

Arthur made a small noise, protest perhaps, and his arms tightened around him again. "Let me worry about that. You concentrate on getting better."

Warm breath against his ear and Arthur's cheek scraping against his and it felt so wonderful to have him close. "Everyone else was afraid of me, once they knew. I thought you were, too. When you left, I couldn't deal with it."

"I was a bloody wanker." Arthur pulled back, then sat down on the bed, drawing Merlin next to him. One arm over his shoulder, hands clasped together, his thumb smoothing across Merlin's skin, he said, "I'm sorry, more than you can know. But I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere."

"Are you sure?" He hadn't meant it to sound so desperate but he'd had too many memories of people scrambling away, of promises not kept, of drugs and therapists telling him that his reality was nothing but a construct he'd carefully built, that real magic was a fantasy and nothing more.

Arthur kissing him was an answer of sorts but it felt too good not to drown in it. His mouth hot on his, warm and wet, his heart racing as Arthur's hand cradled his cheek, he wanted it to last forever. But as he pulled away, Arthur said, "Yes, for as long as you want me."

Then he gently pushed Merlin back down on the bed, but he didn't follow, just sat there. "Gaius is making you some soup. Apparently you haven't eaten nearly enough and I can see that he's right." When Merlin went to protest, Arthur just shook his head. "No arguments. Gaius will feed you and I'll clean up a bit and you can tell me anything you want and I promise to listen - well and maybe insult you a bit about this room." He looked around, tsked about the chaos; Arthur's place was always so neat and orderly and Merlin, even without the magic, had been disorganized for as far back as he could remember.

Reaching down and gathering up some of the printouts, as he neatened the pile on his lap, he frowned down at it and started to read. After a few moments, Arthur said, "Are you working on your book? This is pretty intense stuff."

Merlin shook his head. "No, I write down my dreams, I think, though… maybe they are memories?" He frowned down at the sheets of paper, held in Arthur's grip. "The sum of my life. The truth of it, I think. My truth."

Arthur looked at him, surprised, seemingly intrigued by the idea. Perhaps it appealed to the adventurer in him but whatever it was, he wasn't rejecting it wholesale. "Memories? Of King Arthur and his wizard? Swords and knights and Camelot? How is that possible?"

"I'm magic, remember." When Arthur didn't flinch, just watched him with a steady gaze, Merlin said softly, "I think that I'm remembering the past, how Camelot really was and Arthur and that Merlin… I think I might be that Merlin."

He expected disbelief, even derision but Arthur merely said, "Are you sure?" Then he sat there a moment, looking down at the printouts, all the words describing the past in his hands, perhaps seeing it as something that might be possible, however impossible it sounded. Clearing his throat, shrugging off whatever mistrust he had, he glanced back up at Merlin. "And that makes me, what, King Arthur? The once and future?"

When Merlin nodded, said, "I think so. Maybe. I'm not sure yet but it would fit."

"It would explain a few things." He looked concerned as if trying to fit whatever he'd always accepted as reality into new possibilities. "It's going to take some getting used to. I'm just a nobody with an economics degree, not some kind of politician, certainly not a leader."

"I wouldn't worry about it. I might be wrong. Whatever happens, whatever path you choose, I'm sure you will be brilliant at it." Merlin gave him a little smile, tentative, hopeful.

"Destiny then, like it says here?" Arthur smiled back, pointing down to one of the scenes.

"Yeah, destiny."

Then the smile turned into a smirk as he kept reading. "And this scene, the one with Arthur and Merlin in the bath? Rubbing each other down? Is that destiny, too?"

Arthur would have to find that one. It made his face heat just remembering it. "Might be."

"We'll have to try it sometime." Arthur watched him a moment, looking for something, his eyes darkening as he did. Then he let the printouts slide off his lap, scattering them like a waterfall of paper, and when Merlin protested, he leaned over, lips hovering close. "How about we worry about destiny tomorrow? And work on making our own memories today?"

And as he began to kiss Merlin again, warmth and liquid heat and a pounding heart, memories of a thousand encounters and each one more intense than the last crowding him but Merlin shoved them aside, sank instead into the reality of this Arthur and this moment.

Arthur was right. It was time to make their own memories and with Arthur, his once and future, beside him, anything was possible.

The end


End file.
